Aftermath: Part III
by thehammerofthor
Summary: Third Part of the Aftermath series. The events that transpired in Part II have forced Ellie and Joel out of Jackson, but they aren't together. Now, each find themselves in unfamiliar territory, bracing to survive the oncoming winter without each other's company. The fracture in their relationship may prove insurmountable as they each cope with the miles that stand between them.
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**A/N: Alright, it's time to kick off Aftermath: Part III. Don't be alarmed by the short length of chapter 1. This is just a prologue to act as a sort of setup between the end of Part II and the beginning of Part III. So yes, this is short but sweet. It is the beginning of a long journey, one which will prove even more challenging than what we saw in the events of The Last of Us. First, to set people at ease a bit, both Joel and Ellie are returning in Part III. As for whether they'll survive to the end, well... that much I can't say just yet. It's going to be a _hell_ of a ride.**

**I wanted to get this prologue out there to calm some anxious folks out there who I know have been checking daily for Part III. But beyond that, I wanted to take the opportunity to direct you all to a writer's blog I've set up. The link is thehammerofthor . wordpress . com and I'll be posting stuff there as I write Part III and as I continue working on my novel. I wanted to start that blog to give you all a bit of insight into my writing and thought process, as well as a place for me to discuss some of the themes I was working toward and to get feedback from you on whether or not the themes hit their mark. I'll be posting there with updates between chapters so you won't have to wait for each one in suspense, wondering about the progress of each chapter. Just... eh, I don't want to go so far as say "trust me," but... trust me. Follow that blog. I'll be doing my darndest to make it worth your while to do so. Oh, and as a bonus, it will give you a place to follow the process of the novel that many of you have expressed interest in reading.**

**Chapter two will be returning to the usual length of chapters, but this is just a morsel to satiate your appetites.**

**Oh, and I want to give a tip of the hat to Ash-Wood95 for providing an idea that I ended up using in this chapter. I won't say which one, because I don't want to spoil anything, but Ash knows. Thanks, Ash!  
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**EDIT: Thanks for the heads up on the blog link not working. Pretty lame that fanfiction . net does that (even to its own address.)**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III<strong>

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1<strong>

**PROLOGUE**

There was no going back.

With every step, she knew it in her bones. Jackson offered security, food, and warmth, but without Joel, it was cold and desolate. She thought back to that morning, waking up freezing and alone in their room. The memory only served to steel her resolve.

Without Joel, there was nothing for her there. Her immunity had cost her the luxury of friends her age, and one of the only people she had really befriended was now six feet under, just like so many of the rest. Whether she liked it or not, Joel was all she had.

She drew in a deep breath, but the icy chill in the air stung her lungs and forced a cough. Snowflakes continued to fall all around, coming to rest on her hair and eyelashes, but she brushed them aside and pressed on down the path.

An acrid scent wafted past, lifting Ellie's eyes from the dusting of snow on the ground to scan the forest before her. She sniffed again, seeking out the source of the scent. Something above the treeline caught her eye. It was a grey plume of smoke, the smoke of a fire that had almost completely burned out, so faint it would have been easy to miss if she hadn't been looking for something to match the smell. Her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity and she took off toward the plume.

She hadn't gone a quarter of a mile before the realization hit her like a wave. She took a right at the fork in the path, scanning the area for any signs of life and finding none. Before long, the driveway came into view. Beyond it, a black cinder skeleton rose from the ground. The rest of the cabin had burned away hours ago. All that was left were the smoldering heaps of wood and bodies within the charred, crumbling frame of the building.

She approached with caution, scanning the spaces between the trunks of trees surrounding the remains of the cabin, looking for movement. There was nothing. It was quiet, aside from the muted crackling of the few embers that still held some heat. Ellie walked over to a small pile and held her hands over them, trying to soak up every ounce of heat her numb fingers could absorb. For a moment, she wished she hadn't left in such a haste. A pair of gloves would have been nice, and there was a good chance she could track some down in Jackson. But there was no going back.

She began searching the charcoal skeleton and the surrounding area for any signs of Joel's heading. This act of arson was clearly his handiwork. He must have been trying to destroy every memory of this place and what had transpired. She stood amongst the ruin and slowly spun in place, trying to reckon which direction he had gone.

"C'mon, Joel…" she whispered to no one. "Help me out here."

This was a dangerous moment. He could have gone anywhere from here, and a small mistake in judgment now could erase any chances she had of finding him. Joel had tried to teach her a bit about tracking, but she wasn't sure how much had stuck. If there were more snow on the ground, a trail of footprints would make this much easier.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for something. Some scrap of motivation for him leaving. Her eyes danced over the scorched remaining floorboards. He wasn't coming back. He had left for good. It didn't seem likely that he'd head back east to Boston. With Tess gone, there was nothing there for him. North seemed foolish, given the falling temperatures. South was feasible, but she couldn't imagine him heading even remotely towards Texas in light of all the bad memories that dwelt there.

West seemed the most likely choice. If she were to theoretically run away, west felt like the best direction to go. It leaves everything from your past behind you.

A growl from her stomach pulled her out of her mind and back to the present. She stood, shivering and hungry, bracing herself against the wind. She unslung her backpack, unzipped it, and took stock of what she had for food. It wasn't much, just a couple cans, one of which was the cherry pie filling Joel had told her about. An ache sprung from her heart at the sight of the can. She had to find him, and his trail was growing colder by the minute.

Ellie zipped up the backpack, threw it back on, put the rising sun at her back, and took off in search of Joel, hoping she had chosen the right direction.

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><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 2**


	2. Chapter 2 - Numb

**A/N: Alright, now it's time to actually kick off Part III. Prologue out of the way, we're gonna get rolling for real. This chapter should give you a small idea of the dire situations that are going to arise throughout Part III, and this one is actually quite mild. It's going to get crazy.**

**If you haven't started following my blog yet, I recommend it. You can find the link on my profile. I've been posting some interesting stuff about the Aftermath series, and it'll provide a place where I can engage with you guys more directly. Check it out.**

**Thanks for the excitement you've been expressing about Part III! I'm pretty excited myself, and I'm eager to see where this story is going to go. Sometimes I don't even know! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2<strong>

**NUMB**

Joel moved slowly, watching his feet as to not step on any branches and give away his position. His eyes darted back and forth from the frosted ground to the lone house in the middle of the clearing. He kept his breathing low and steady as he cautiously made his way over to the stump. He glanced back at the house in time to see the shambling figure stumble into view from the far end of the building.

It had been on some sort of blind patrol ever since he stumbled upon the house ten minutes ago, seemingly making proprietorial laps around it as if guarding it. There was no movement in the windows, and there seemed to be a faint hint of smoke coming from the chimney. There was no telling what kind of supplies were within, and he'd have to find out.

Joel reached the stump just as the figure released a gout of clicks from the fissure in the middle of its cloven face. He grasped the handle of the hatchet and pried it loose, but stumbled as it broke free, knocking over a log with the dull clunk of wood hitting wood. The clicker spun to face his direction and spewed another volley of the spine-tingling clicking noises. This solitary clicker stood between him and whatever supplies he could find in that house. He knocked the broad face of the blade against the stump, luring the clicker to his location.

The creature approached on unsteady legs, flailing its arms in wild search of its target. Joel tightened his grip on the hatchet, strode forward to meet the clicker, and swung the blade down hard into the side of its neck. Blood erupted from the wound, and the clicks soon became drowned out by a horrific gurgling sound. It fell twitching to the cold earth, but Joel recoiled to strike again. He brought the blade down on the breach in its face, cleaving it completely in two. He withdrew the blade again and swung once more, an ember of rage starting to burn hot within him. Again and again he brought the hatchet down on the beast until the handle broke off at the head. There was no trace left of the creature's head.

Joel hunched over and tried to catch his breath. He tossed the hatchet handle aside, shook his head and blinked, trying to clear the obscuring fog that had settled over his mind in the last minute. His self-control had slipped for just a moment, but losing your head, even for a moment, can be deadly. He scolded himself for his carelessness.

He looked up from the decimated clicker and scanned the area. Snowflakes fell, silent as ashes, to settle on brittle blades of grass. It was quiet besides the gentle howl of the wind. Joel stood, cracked his neck, and began gingerly rolling his joints to work out some of the pain that had bubbled to the surface. His wounds from the beating he had received at the hands of the bandits were still fairly fresh, stinging reminders of his myriad failures.

Gradually, the stiffness and tension began to ease and he approached the door of the house. He unholstered his revolver when he reached the front steps and cautiously peered into the windows. There was no movement within them, but the room on the other side of the glass seemed to be filled with a bizarre haze. It struck him as odd since the smoke from the chimney pointed to the flue being open. Why would smoke be gathering within the house?

He slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. A wave came out to greet him, and in the millisecond before it hit him, he drew in a quick breath and backed away immediately. He looked up to the roof and his eyes met the chimney. He blinked and tried to focus. It wasn't smoke. It was a steady stream of spores.

He unslung his pack and fished around for his gas mask. The familiar texture met his fingertips and he pulled back the straps and slid it over his head. The world took on a slightly more clouded form through the round eyeholes. He drew in a deep breath and the familiar scent of the filter triggered a brief bout of nostalgia. He brushed it aside and turned back to investigate the house. Places that had been claimed by the cordyceps usually had a decent amount of supplies within them, as most survivors tended to avoid them. Joel rubbed his frigid hands together and relished in the thought of a pair of gloves.

The spores hung thick in the air in the living room, choking the visibility down to a few feet. He swept over the room, eyes settling on a couple of blooming fungal horns gushing spurts of spores into the air. He knelt and listened closely to his surroundings, focusing for any signs of life, but there were none. He stood and began searching, starting with the kitchen. A floorboard let out a hollow groan as he passed over it, making him cringe in apprehension, but the house remained silent.

He rifled through the kitchen cabinets, but most were just filled with dishes, which would be of little use. He checked the cabinet above the stove and, in searching the back, found a couple cans of food which he tossed into his pack. He also grabbed a pair of kitchen shears and a roll of duct tape that was hiding in a drawer.

After thoroughly combing through the kitchen, he moved to the hall. He opened the closet, hoping to find some winter gear. He switched on his flashlight and rifled through the various articles of clothing piled within it. Near the bottom of the pile were a pair of winter gloves, a hat, and a scarf. He stifled his excitement and pulled the gloves on immediately, trying to warm his numb fingertips. The others he tossed into his pack for now.

The bathroom cabinet yielded a few ibuprofen, which he downed eagerly, hoping to ease the pain of his wounds, but nothing else besides. He turned down the hall to leave, retracing his steps. His weight came down on the floorboard that had groaned loudly, and his ears were met with a dreadful splintering noise as the rotted wood gave way. He found himself plummeting into the floor, a peculiar and terrifying sensation, as if the ground had transformed into a sinkhole.

His arms shot out to each side to halt his descent, which took a significant amount of effort especially in light of his wounds. Somewhere below him he heard fractured planks strike the cold cement of the basement floor. Soon after the percussive clanking stopped, shrieks and groans filled the room below him. He felt arms and bony fingers clutching at his swinging legs, and he kicked wildly to shake them off. He clambered to pull his body up out of the gaping hole and got back to his hands and knees. Suddenly, a deep and tremendous bellow shook the room.

"Oh shit…" he muttered, scrambling to his feet and making for the door.

He swung open the front door just as something crashed through the door to the basement. By the sound, it was massive, and its weight strained against the dilapidated floorboards. Joel lost his footing and tumbled down the steps, grimacing at the complaining bruises that covered his body. There would be time to lick his wounds later. The only thing that mattered in that moment was running.

He came to his feet and flinched as something crashed through the bay window behind him. He swore the ground shook upon impact. He made for the trees, sneaking a look over his shoulder. The beast was coming to its feet, and behind it more Infected were pouring through the window. Unfortunately there were a few runners among them that still retained a bit of sight. These took off in hot pursuit of Joel, drawing the rest of the Infected with them.

The hulking figure at the back was the one he was most concerned about. A handful of runners and clickers, he could probably manage. Throwing a bloater in amongst them tipped the scales far in the other direction, especially without ingredients for a molotov at his disposal.

The bloater roared again, lifting its bulky, lumbering form from the snow and staggering toward Joel. It was thoroughly grotesque in appearance, the fungus having pervaded all of the body's systems, covering the victim with thick armored plating. Clusters of spore pods dotted its frame, and Joel saw it tear one free before hurling it in his direction. The sac burst on his heels, a cloud of spores exploding at his back. He kept the gas mask in place and ran like hell.

He needed some separation between the runners and the clickers and bloater before he could engage them. The runners gave chase into the trees, and after fifty yards or so, were decently far ahead of the rest. Joel pulled the short shotgun from its holster, spun, and leveled it at the first runner's chest. He pulled the trigger when he was sure the buckshot would inflict maximum damage. The impact of the shot launched the runner backwards as its chest was perforated with holes. He brought the shotgun over to the next runner and pulled the trigger again. It shared the same fate as the first, the contents of its chest pouring out onto the earth. The third and final runner arrived and Joel swung the butt of the shotgun into its face. It staggered back. Joel lunged and struck it again, breaking its skull and sending its contents across the white snow.

With the runners out of the way, he could manage to lose the rest of the Infected. They were relegated to hunting via sound only, and giving them the slip would be considerable easier. He searched between the trunks until the shuffling figures came into view, then threw a rock as far as he could to his left. The clicker at the front heard the rock ricocheting against the trunks of trees and sharply turned that direction, shrieking and clicking in excitement. It tore off through the trunks in search of the source of noise, and Joel began to creep the opposite direction.

A ridge rose before him, with several large boulders standing at its feet. He checked over his shoulder and backed behind one of them. Peering around the edge of the boulder, he saw that the Infected had taken the bait and were oblivious to his position. His burning lungs reminded him that he had been holding his breath since he threw the rock. He reached up, pulled off the gas mask, and exhaled deeply.

"Close call," a familiar voice said. Joel didn't even flinch at the sound.

"Yeah," he replied as he tucked the mask back into his pack.

"How long you think you can keep this up?" she asked as he peered around the rock again. "Luck's gonna run out eventually."

"I'm countin' on it."

"Well, you better get a move on. Ellie's coming."

Joel spun to face her, but no one was there. He scowled and let out another deep breath. Somewhere in the distance he heard the bloater let out a frustrated bellow. He looked out from behind the boulder once more to see them ambling aimlessly about, having lost his trail. He pulled back and then looked at the empty space beside him. He shook his head to clear it.

"Come on, Joel," he admonished. "Get it together."

He shivered and unslung his pack to retrieve the scarf and hat he had scavenged. He wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck and pulled the knitted cap over his matted hair. He was grateful for the articles of winter clothing, and flexed his fingers within the gloves.

His mind drifted to Ellie. He hoped she wasn't coming after him. She wouldn't survive out here by herself, especially without any cold weather gear. He knew it was probably a foolish hope. Knowing Ellie, she had probably taken off in search of him soon after she woke up alone. It pained him to think of her out here by herself, especially on account of him. He was such a fool. Even when trying to protect her, he ended up putting her in harm's way.

He broke free of his mental reprimand and turned back to the task at hand. He looked up, estimating the time of day and the angle of the light, and continued to push west.

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><p>Ellie shuddered violently. She rebuked herself for having taken off in such a hurry. She really should have grabbed some winter clothes. Her fingertips felt like blocks of ice. No, feel wasn't quite the right term, given their numbness. She balled her fists, which didn't help, then opened them again and rubbed them together vigorously. She relished the small sensation of heat that arose between them.<p>

Suddenly, there was a sound that cascaded through the trees like a wave. It was a familiar sound made significantly less distinguishable by being so distant. Gunshots. The first boom rolled past her and echoed off of the landscape behind her. Then a second boom. She hiked her backpack higher onto her shoulders, turned toward the origin of the gunshots, and trotted off in that direction.

"Hang on, Joel…"

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><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 3**


	3. Chapter 3 - Singularity

**A/N: Oh man. Sometimes when you get an idea and it becomes fleshed out, writing becomes so easy. I kind of struggled through the early part of this chapter, but roughly halfway through I came up with an idea on how to end the chapter and everything just flowed. It's such a delightful feeling. I had a lot of fun with the back half of this chapter, but I don't want to give anything away in the author's note, so you'll just have to read it first. I'm thinking I'll probably write a new post on the blog tomorrow (Thursday) commenting on it, because I'm sure some people will be like "heyyyyy, wait a hot minute!" So stay tuned for that. Seriously, if you're enjoying this story, follow the blog. You might glean some greater insight into this story. Anyways, without further delay, here's chapter 3.**

**If you want a track to put on while you read this, I recommend "The Path (Vacant)" from the newly released The Last of Us Vol. 2 soundtrack. The deep, reverberant strings are just so gorgeous and somber.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

**SINGULARITY**

Ellie tossed her backpack against the trunk of a nearby tree and sat down on an adjacent rock to catch her breath. She had been jogging nonstop for what felt like hours. The physical activity was good as it meant some feeling was starting to seep back into her extremities.

"Oh… oh man…" she huffed between breaths.

The frigid air stung at her lungs, puncturing like a thousand miniscule needles. The sweat that had gathered on her brow grew colder in spite of her feverish skin. She reached a sleeve of her coat up to wipe away the moisture and then rested her elbows on her knees, panting.

She reckoned she should be close to the origin of the gunshots by now, and decided she should have something in her stomach before pushing on any further. She pulled a can of chili from her pack. Joel had given her a list of food items to keep in her pack at all times. Chili was a popular choice, when it could be found, because of the ample amounts of protein.

She clutched the can between her numb fingers and stared at it hungrily. In her haste to leave Jackson she hadn't thought to grab a can opener, so she flicked open her switchblade and carefully drove holes around the perimeter of the lid using a rock for leverage.

She scooped out mouthfuls of chili and ate, already missing the hot meals that were becoming a normality in Jackson. The chili was cold but flavorful, and she savored each bite, feeling some strength return to her tired limbs.

Her mind raced. Those gunshots. Was Joel still alive? Was he hurt? How far ahead of her was he? But the question that festered within her, overshadowing the rest, was how could he do this to her? After everything they had done for each other, after he had _promised_ he would never abandon her, what could possibly make him turn his back on her without even saying goodbye?

She replayed the events of the previous night and early morning, looking for answers in the ruin. Joel was no stranger to losing people, and she had witnessed him losing Tess firsthand. He was clearly affected by it, but quickly stifled any emotion and returned to being the gruff asshole she knew him to be at that point. His reaction to losing Lakyn was jarring in contrast. When Ellie had found him, he seemed to be in some sort of stupor, miles away from the devastation that surrounded him. It was probably just some type of shock, but there was something conspicuously off about it.

The sound of a cracking stick pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up from the empty can in her hands and scanned the woods around her. The unmistakable clicking sound echoed through the trees.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

Moving as fast and quietly as she could manage, she reached the tree and picked up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders. Hiding out of sight was pointless when your predators were blind, so she simply stood in place and listened. The sounds of scuffling and the sputters and clicks of Infected began to fill the forest. Then she heard a different, deeper sound. A deep, guttural moan accompanied by uneven and heavy footsteps. A profound sense of dread manifested itself in her chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

She picked a direction and then threw her empty can as hard as she could the opposite way. The satisfying metal clunks reverberated behind her as she swiftly fled, making every effort to keep quiet. Trunks of trees blurred past as she moved between them, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the Infected behind her.

The forest gave way to a small clearing with an unassuming house standing at its center. The bay window had been shattered, and Ellie could see the faint streams of spores drifting from the opening. She pulled her pistol from her waistband and approached the house.

The front door hung open at the top of a few cement steps. Ellie studied the ground before the steps. The snow looked a bit disheveled. She moved over to the ground under the bay window next to the door. Red blotches and broken glass were scattered across the upheaved snow under the bay window. She pieced together the scene. Someone had come here looking for supplies. They must have spooked the Infected holed up inside, and they fled in a hurry, tumbling down the steps before the Infected came pouring out of the bay window. Could this have been Joel? Was this his blood?

Tentatively, she made her way up the steps, through the open door, and into the living room. Stepping through the threshold, she swept her pistol over the room, wary of any lingering Infected that may be hiding within. The familiar dusty taste of cordyceps spores began to permeate her mouth and sinuses. Her singularity was as prevalent as ever in her mind as she inhaled breath after breath of spores, knowing they'd have no ill effect.

She continued into the house, checking her corners like Joel taught her and staying vigilant for signs of Infected. It was still and quiet, the only sound being the vague howling of wind through the breach where the bay window once stood. She stepped carefully around the gaping hole in the floorboards and went down the hall to check every room. They were all vacant. She went to the kitchen and found the door to the basement had been burst off its hinges. The spores appeared to be pouring out of the basement in greater density than the rest of the house. She swallowed hard and tried to work some moisture back into her mouth after the spores had wicked it away. She thumbed on her flashlight and warily descended the stairs.

To her relief, the basement was also empty besides being thoroughly encrusted with unrestrained fungal growth. Thick, dinnerplate sized flakes and shelves of fungus choked at the corners and scabbed over the walls. This was the kind of place Infected tended to bed down during the winter months. Dank basements offered some protection from the elements as well as a place for Infected to congregate and share each other's warmth. The cordyceps kept them burning hot to help deal with the cold, but they still had their limits.

Ellie returned to the main floor, satisfied that the house was empty, and peered through the windows. Daylight was beginning to fade. She began searching the house for any supplies. She edged her way around the hole in the floor once more and opened the closet in the hall. There was a pile of clothing at the bottom, and she rifled through it. The fabric of the clothes was rumpled as if they had been tossed about recently. Someone had definitely come through here, but to venture into the house they would need a gas mask. A gas mask not unlike the one Joel kept with him at all times.

She sighed and continued sorting through the pile, praying for a pair of gloves and some other warm gear. There wasn't much in the pile intended for cold weather use, but layers were better than nothing at all. She shrugged off her coat and pulled a soft sweater over her head. She grabbed another she could use as a makeshift scarf or another layer, rolled it into a small bundle, and tucked it away in her backpack. She made it to the bottom of the clothing pile, but found no gloves.

She huffed in frustration and checked the rest of the house. She had to climb onto the kitchen counters to reach the back of the cabinets, but the search was fruitless. She headed upstairs and checked each room. There wasn't much useful in any of those bedrooms either, but she grabbed the blankets off of one of the beds and wrapped them around her shoulders to try to reclaim some heat.

The ever-fading light from outside conjured a frown. It would be dark soon, and she didn't want to be caught outside at night without any form of shelter. Staying in this house might just be the best option. The spores were a little thick for her liking, but she had breathed plenty before and come out just fine.

She turned down the hall and flinched as something hit her in the face. She staggered about, waving her arms in a brief panic, before realizing that it was a small washer tied to a string that hung from the ceiling. She looked up and saw a paneled door in the roof. She thought back to the house in the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh where Joel had boosted her up into the attic. That would provide a safe place to stay the night.

She pulled the cord gently, hoping the door would fare better than the one from before. It groaned against its hinges, but slowly opened with a light shower of dust. A set of steps telescoped down to greet her, and she climbed them cautiously, testing her weight on each one. She pulled her way up into the attic and reached down to pull the door and steps up behind her.

Her eyes glazed over the steepled room. There were boxes strewn about the edges of the room, leaving a small, barely navigable aisle and giving the attic a claustrophobic feel. The air was dusty, but the spores seemed nearly nonexistent up here. She noticed a pillar of light shining through what must have been a window at the far end of the attic and made her way over to it.

The dormer window was small, barely large enough for her to fit through if the need should arise. It was in a small alcove where it jutted out in contrast to the gabled roof that surrounded it. Ellie set her backpack down in the corner of the alcove and moved up to the window. Sparse, blustery snow continued to fall listlessly, collecting on the trees and hardening ground, giving the world a fresh white coating. The sun, somewhere behind the clouds, was on its way to the horizon.

She pulled the blankets tightly around her and leaned against the wall of the alcove. She buried her cold fingers and concentrated on the idea of warmth. The topic led her mind to drift to Joel. Had he found shelter in the face of the oncoming freeze that nightfall would bring? She shivered in spite of the layers and blankets wrapped around her.

She thought back to her travels with Joel the previous winter, and found herself longing for his company. It brought companionship and warmth. But here, in the frigid attic, the cold of being alone leached its way into her bones. Despite her anger and frustration with Joel, she found herself aching for his presence.

She leaned her head back against the aged paneling and watched the world outside transition from light gray to charcoal to black before drifting off into a restless, shivering sleep.

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><p>The first thing she heard was the monotonous ticking of a clock before the sound of a door closing roused her from her sleep. Her skin was sweaty against the arm of the leather couch. She heard the distant sound of Joel talking to someone on the phone. A light flicked on and she opened her eyes.<p>

"We'll talk about it in the mornin'," he said in a hushed tone. "Alright, goodnight."

"Hey," she said after letting out a deep yawn.

"Scoot."

She wiped her nose and looked over at him. "Fun day at work, huh?"

He rested his weary brow on his fingers. "What are you still doin' up? It's late."

"Oh crud. What time is it?" she asked in a small panic, turning to check the clock above the couch.

"It's way past your bedtime," he responded.

"But it's still today." She crawled off the couch in search of the small box she had hidden beside the couch.

"Honey, please not right now. I do not have the energy for this."

She held the box out to him. "Here."

"What's this?" he asked, removing his hand from his brow to take the box from her.

"Your birthday."

He took the box from her before giving her a sideways smirk. He slowly lifted the cover of the box, opening it partway. His eyes fell on the gleaming watch face inside. He flipped the cover all the way open.

"You kept complaining about your broken watch… so I figured, you know." Joel removed the watch from the gift box and set it on his wrist. She watched his face, hers brimming with eager anticipation. "You like it?"

He seemed to be taken aback, speechless at the lavish gift she had given. "Honey, this is…" he held it up to his ear and gently shook it. A glimmer of fear bolted through her.

"What?"

"It's nice but I- I think it's stuck. It's not-"

"What? No, no, no, no." She grabbed his wrist to take a closer look at her treasured gift.

The watch face was shattered badly. Several sharp spiderweb cracks covered its surface. She saw her reflection in the face of the watch, and noticed the familiar scar bisecting her right eyebrow. There was a flicker of firelight behind her in the reflection of the watch face.

She looked up and was no longer sitting on the couch in her living room. Gravity pulled hard at her right side, pinning her to the door of the SUV. The window was blown out, and cold cement greeted her through the opening. She picked herself up and noticed Joel, unconscious and slumped on the seat in front of her.

"Daddy?" she asked tentatively. "Hey." There was no response. She jostled his arm. "Hey!"

He began to stir. "What?"

She looked out through the front window. She could see into another car that was likewise on its side across the street. Within it, a man was being torn to pieces by another with wild eyes and blood around his mouth. Joel noticed it too and reached up to grab her arm.

"Get back, baby. Get back."

He brought up his boot and firmly kicked at the windshield. It took three strong kicks to shake it free from its frame, and it fell loudly to the cement. Joel gingerly crawled his way out of the SUV and rose to his feet, taking in the chaotic scene. Suddenly, horrific gurgling sounds began rapidly approaching and she heard Joel get knocked against the roof of the SUV as the creature attacked him. She heard footsteps and a grunt as Tommy drove a brick into the head of the assailant, killing it instantly.

"Dad?" she asked.

He reappeared in the front opening, fear prevalent on his face. He must have realized it, because he put on his bravest expression. "I'm here, baby. I'm here. C'mon, give me your hand."

She reached out and grabbed it and crawled out of the SUV. She struggled onto her feet and put her weight down on her left leg. A sharp stab of pain shot up through it, causing her to limp unwillingly.

Joel took her by the shoulders, bracing her. "What is it?"

"My leg hurts," she answered through the pain.

"How bad?" he asked, leaning his head down to look her in the eyes.

She tested her weight on it again but winced at the pain. "Pretty bad."

"We're gonna need to run," Tommy informed, his back turned to them as he surveyed the scene.

Joel looked around, seeing the mass panic that surrounded them. "Oh my god," he whispered as he pulled his revolver from his waistband and handed it to Tommy. "You keep us safe. Come on, baby." Joel scooped her into his arms. "Now hold on tight."

She obeyed and wrapped her arms around him, clutching him as tightly as she could. "Okay."

They began running, Tommy taking the lead, warding over them. All around them others were being tackled to the ground by the voracious screaming people with wild eyes and bloody mouths.

She pulled herself closer to Joel's chest. "Daddy, I'm scared."

"Joel - watch out!" Tommy warned as someone was driven to the ground right next to them.

"Just keep your eyes closed, honey!" Joel implored.

She complied, squeezing her eyelids shut and burying her face into the fabric of his shirt. When she pulled away and opened her eyes once more, the city streets had given way to the rolling hills along the banks of a river. There was a path before them, and Joel was hurrying down it toward a bridge that spanned the river in the distance. Behind them, moans and helpless, insanity-ridden cries nipped at their heels.

"Daddy, they're getting closer!" They rounded a bend and an overturned ambulance came into view, its lights still flashing obediently. "Dad?"

The writhing figure of a man emerged on the ground behind the ambulance. He was frantically twitching and squirming while trying to climb to his feet. Joel kept running. The creatures were gaining on them. They weren't going to make it.

Just as Joel's energy was about to run out, a swath of light bathed them. There was a hail of gunfire as the creatures pursuing them were mowed down. She screamed, startled by the percussive bursts of machine-gun fire. Joel pulled her in close.

He looked back over his shoulder and then back at her. "It's okay, baby. We're safe. We're safe." The cone of light strayed from their position. "Hey, we need help! Please!"

"Stop!" a muffled voice shouted from behind the light.

"It's my daughter, I think her leg's broken," Joel continued.

"Stop right there!" the voice shouted again, fixing the cone of light on them, rendering them blind.

"Okay." Joel pulled up and began slowly backing away. "We're not s-sick."

"Got a couple of civilians in the outer perimeter. Please advise," the voice spoke, seemingly into its radio.

"Daddy, what about uncle Tommy?" she asked.

Joel's eyes left the soldier and looked back to her. "We're gonna get you to safety and go back for him. Okay?"

"Sir, there's a little girl." He listened for a response at the other end of the transmission. "But…" there was a long, agonizing silence. "Yes, sir."

"Listen, buddy, we've just been through hell," Joel pleaded, taking a few steps towards the soldier. "Okay, we just need-" The cone of light rose to become centered on them once more. She felt Joel's body tense. "Oh, shit."

He turned his back to place himself between her and the soldier. The soldier opened fire, spraying a volley of bullets at the two of them. An excruciating, violently acute pain blossomed in her stomach, as if it was being torn open. She screamed. She felt herself falling and landed hard on the ground. The pain grew more tremendous and intense.

They both came to rest and the soldier ran up to where they had fallen. She heard Joel whisper the words "Please don't" followed by a thunderous gunshot. Terror gripped her heart. He was dead. They shot him. She clutched her midsection. They had shot her too. She brought her hands before her face. They were dripping with dark red blood.

"Oh no…" it was Tommy's voice.

"Ellie!" Joel was scampering on his hands and knees and came to her side.

She began weeping truncated, uneven sobs from the pain and the cold that had begun seeping into her. It was a vague, distant cold that grew more tangible with every second. She held her hands over her stomach, trying to hold the precious blood inside.

"Okay, move your hands, baby," Joel instructed as her sobbing continued. She reached a hand up to clutch at his neck, letting out a frightened whimper. "I know, baby, I know…" She shrieked in pain as Joel pressed both hands over her midsection, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The pain was agonizing. "Listen to me, I know this hurts, baby." She reached her other hand up and took hold of his arm. "You're gonna be okay, baby. Stay with me!"

Her crying was irrepressible. She sputtered as tears overflowed from her eyes. The pain was simply unbearable, and her vision grew dimmer with every heartbeat. "Alright, I'm gonna pick you up," Joel said as he moved an arm to cradle her to his chest. "I know, baby. I know it hurts." She felt herself slipping away between sobs. This was the end. "Come on, baby. Please. I know, baby, I know."

Her vision continued to darken, and Joel's stricken face was the last thing she saw before fading to black. She felt her heart cease beating. She felt her body go limp against his arms. She felt herself shut down.

"Ellie!"

This was the end.

* * *

><p>She awoke in a freezing sweat, utterly and terribly alone. She huddled into the blankets and gave herself over to the emotions of the dream. She wept openly and unabated, as if she had never wept before, as the sun climbed its way into the cold sky.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 4**


	4. Chapter 4 - Grave

**A/N: Righto. Back again. Oh man, oh man, oh man. So as many of you are certainly aware, the lone single-player DLC for The Last of Us, "Left Behind," came out on Friday. Yes, it was short at roughly two hours and forty minutes, but good heavens, the amount of emotion and character development they packed into those two hours and forty minutes. It puts many movies of the same length to absolute shame. I wrote up a summary of some thoughts I had about the DLC in a post on my Wordpress blog, so check that out if you're interested in my thoughts and opinions on the DLC.**

**Getting back to the Aftermath series, I think we're all about to see just how grave and dire things are going to get. Winter is a dangerous thing, and not just because of hebephiliac, raving-mad cannibals. The elements themselves can prove equally as dangerous, as Ellie is about to learn. But before I spoil anything further, read the chapter.**

**Thanks for the enthusiasm you guys have shown for this series! Apparently people have been posting links in the comments for TLoU related YouTube videos, so that's pretty dang cool. A complete stranger tweeted at me today telling me he loved the fanfic. I was pretty touched. Feel free to reach out with any comments and questions. I'm _usually_ willing to answer them! Alright then, until next chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 4<strong>

**GRAVE**

Her eyes bored into the far wall of the alcove. She sat hugging her knees under the blankets, overcome by a numbness that manifested itself both physically and emotionally, the kind of numbness that springs from a combination of frigid cold and sobbing to exhaustion. Her sleep had been anything but restful, and she found herself further wearied by the subsequent hour of bitter weeping. Her breaths came slowly and deeply, occasionally interrupted by a shudder of her diaphragm.

She wiped her freezing nose on the blankets and turned to gaze out the window listlessly. Her mind, which had been accosted by thoughts of Joel and loss and pain, had become a blank sheet not unlike the layer of snow that covered the yard outside the window. She felt weak, her internal flame waning to a smolder. How was she ever going to find him? How do you find one man in a world so vast and dangerous? She wiped away a stray tear and scanned the yard.

She fought the urge to remain in the tepid cocoon of blankets and struggled to her feet. She looked around at the myriad boxes surrounding her and decided it could be useful to search at least a few of them. She slid one box into the light and began rifling through it. It was loaded with pictures in antique-looking frames, as well as several envelopes full of letters. She shoved the box aside and slid another away from the wall.

Something against the wall caught her eye. It was of familiar shape and texture. Deep, rich walnut peered out from behind the adjacent box. Ellie's eyes went wide upon realization. She grabbed the stock and slid the rifle out from behind the boxes. It was a Remington hunting rifle, and it was in immaculate condition, all things considered. She tugged the bolt back and worked the action, admiring how well the oiled mechanism had held up.

There were only a couple rounds loaded into the rifle, but upon sifting through a couple boxes, she found a half-empty case of rifle ammo. She tucked the box away and fastened the rifle to the makeshift holster on her backpack, then went back to searching.

A loud thud rang out from somewhere beneath her, and she froze, still as a startled rabbit. She strained her ears and heard shuffling through the house below her. There was no way to tell if the source of sound was Infected or hunters, but given the presence of spores, her money was on the former.

She looked around the cramped attic, weighing her options. Dropping back into the house was less than ideal given the company. She crossed back over to the alcove and peered out of the dormer window. There was a narrow stretch of rooftop she could make her way out onto. She leaned close to the window, trying to see along the side of the house. A few branches protruded into her vision. There was a tree at the far end of the house. She could cross the roof, jump onto the tree, and work her way down to ground level before making her escape into the woods.

She tried desperately to wrap the blankets up into a small enough bundle to bring along, but there was no combination of folds that made it work, so she regretfully left them behind. She pulled her coat together and zipped it up, threw on her backpack, and unlocked the window. She pushed the pane open and cautiously made her way out onto the roof.

The snow made the going treacherous, and she tested her weight on each footstep, ensuring that she wouldn't slip. She held her arms out to her sides to retain her balance as she went. The gabled roof wasn't as steep as others she'd seen, but it was still steep enough to make crossing it in the snow rather dangerous. She placed another step forward and slowly put her weight onto it. Her foot slid to the right and she flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to keep from falling. Somehow, her countermovements worked, and she got her feet under her once more.

Adrenaline coursed through every fiber in her body and her heart rate increased a handful of beats after the brush with disaster. She took a few deep breaths and then pushed on. She risked a look over the edge, trying to gauge whether or not she'd be seriously hurt if she fell. Suddenly, she saw a glimmer of movement in the corner of her eye, somewhere near the chimney.

"Where ya goin', Ellie?" David's hushed, abrasive voice taunted.

Startled, she came down too hard on her next step and her feet slid out from under her again. There was no saving it this time. She fell onto her left side, hitting the roof hard, and began to slide off the edge. She clawed desperately for something to grab onto, but her fingers came up raw and empty. She felt gravity's pull dragging her off of the roof. Time slowed down as the edge of the gutter brushed past her fingertips and she hung suspended for a moment.

She hit the ground with an impact so severe that she let out an involuntary yelp as all of the air was driven from her lungs. She had landed half on her back, half on her left side. There was a stab of dull pain, and she moved a hand to her formerly cracked ribs. After a brief moment of panic and frantic groaning, she managed to work some air back into her lungs. She took a couple deep inhales, checking to see whether or not the ribs had been re-injured. To her relief, they seemed unbroken. She'd be badly bruised from the fall, particularly where the bolt of the rifle had jabbed into her back, but that's where the damage seemed to end. She was lucky.

She scuttled back away from the house until she reached a shed that stood in the backyard. Safely behind it, she peered around the edge of the shed and up at the roof. There was nothing there except the chimney. No figure of a man. He hadn't been there. He was dead. There, shivering in the snow, she could feel the reverberations through her arms as the machete hit home. Her eyes fell and she searched the glistening snow for a few seconds.

"C'mon, Ellie…" she whispered.

Her fall seemingly hadn't alerted anyone in the house, and rather than find out who or what they were, she opted to take off into the woods. She looked around, weighing her options. She put the rising sun at her back and continued west, in constant search for signs of Joel's passing.

* * *

><p>Joel buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and his face into his scavenged scarf. Winter had come on in a rush. It wasn't three days ago that it had still been autumn, and now three inches of powdery snow had settled over the crunchy fallen leaves. With the snow had come a bitter wind from the north. Temperatures had fallen rapidly over the past few days until Joel felt it nipping at the tips of his ears. He tugged the hat down further onto his head.<p>

His mind drifted as he trudged through the woods, hovering around familiar topics. Ellie, most prevalent among them. Lakyn. Tommy and Maria. Sarah. He kept his gaze fixed on the woods ahead, seeking out the easiest path to tread. The western horizon beckoned to him. Perhaps somewhere over it, he could start over. Wash the slate clean.

"Give me a fucking break," she said. Joel didn't respond, keeping his eyes sternly forward. "The things you've done? There's no washing that clean, Joel. Don't kid yourself."

He pointedly ignored her and the silence made a temporary return. The arctic wind whistled and howled through the branches above, blowing down stray leaves and glittering snowflakes around him as he walked. Lingering birds called to each other as they flitted from branch to branch, coordinating their imminent departure for the warmer southern lands.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Joel hesitated. He stopped walking and held still, listening intently. "Hear what?"

Another moment of silence stretched between them. "It's Ellie. She's calling for you."

Joel listened for half a breath before shaking off the comment. "Uh-huh," he replied in a thick, patronizing tone. He turned back to the woods and kept walking.

"She might be in trouble. You're the one who dragged her out here to follow your ass. Are y-"

"Shut the hell up and leave me alone," he spat, cutting her off.

"If you had just done the right thing and ended it all wh-"

He spun to face her. "Enough!" he roared to the empty woods beside him. He pressed his fingers into his eyes until the spinning shapes appeared in his vision. He shook his head and took a few deep breaths of the winter air, hoping to return a sense of lucidity. "You're losin' your goddamn mind, Joel. Pull it together."

He turned back to the path and soldiered on.

* * *

><p>Ellie cupped her hands to her mouth again. "Joel!" she called. A faint echo responded from the ridge that rose on her left, but no further reply came. It was hopeless.<p>

She had been reluctant to call for him in the first place, but frustration had gotten the better of her. Joel had always stressed the value of inconspicuousness. You were safest when no one knew you were there at all. Shouting in the forest could carry for miles, letting everyone and everything in a wide radius know they weren't alone.

This fact made her feel suddenly exposed and self-conscious. Calling for him was a bad idea. Why had she let herself slip up like that? There was no telling what kind of attention that would draw. Her only hope was that somehow her voice had carried far enough ahead for Joel to hear, if he was even there. She felt deep in her gut that she was on the right track, but there was no way to tell for sure. There hadn't been a definite, clear sign of Joel since the charred remains of the cabin. She had been gambling ever since, and could only hope that the odds were in her favor.

The worsening cold was oppressive. It was cutting through her layers and into her core. She unwrapped the sweater that she had been using as a scarf, removed her coat, and added it as a layer before putting the coat back on. _Heat is born in the chest. Keep your core warm and your limbs will follow_, Joel's words echoed in her mind. She remembered that conversation from the road the previous winter. She had been shuddering uncontrollably. He had looked over her apparel and rewrapped her accordingly. She remembered the warmth returning to her arms, legs, fingers and toes. Even now, unknowingly, he was trying to protect her.

Her mood soured. She turned her thoughts over and over, poring over them as Lakyn would do with one of her rifle components while cleaning them. Her hopelessness scorched into a burgeoning anger, the lion's share of it directed at Joel. She couldn't wait until she caught up to him. He would catch no small portion of her rage. She would make him regret ever leaving her.

She pressed on, muttering angry words under her breath while stifling the longing that was beginning to reclaim its territory in her chest. Angry as she was, she still missed him. Hours passed as she walked along, studying every pockmark in the snow that could have been a footstep and each unnaturally bent twig that could have been caused by someone passing through. The woods stretched on and on, growing deeper and denser, the last traces of civilization that had surrounded Jackson fading away with each step. The distance between structures increased drastically and the lone road through the woods had turned north over a mile ago. She was entering the untouched woods of western Wyoming. The horizon was jagged where various peaks rose above the treetops. There would be a great deal of ascension over the next couple of days. If she made it that far.

The sun went on ahead of her, approaching the horizon more quickly than she preferred. Dark would be coming soon, and with it, another bitter freeze. She remembered the kind of cold she experienced that morning, the sort that cut beyond your bones and took root in the marrow. That kind of cold had wracked her within a cocoon of blankets, holed up in an attic, shielded from the elements. She didn't want to imagine a night outside. She might die from exposure. Why, oh why hadn't she found a way to bring those blankets?

An acute fear was brought on by these revelations, and she began a desperate search for some sort of shelter. She really hadn't thought this whole going-after-Joel thing through, and now there was a good chance she'd pay for it with her life.

Her best hope of staying warm, with no tent, sleeping bag, or even a blanket, was lighting a fire. She still had a handful of the Bic lighters, the type Joel had insisted she grab whenever she stumbled across one, tucked safely into an inner pocket of her backpack. The fire was a risk. It would attract attention. But she decided she'd rather deal with some uninvited guests than freeze to death.

She found a hollow beneath a couple fallen pines that would provide some shelter from the wind and set out to gather a bit of firewood. She didn't have to make too big of a circle around camp to gather enough wood to keep a small fire going for a couple hours. She took three more trips, building up a small pile so she could stoke the fire through the night as needed.

Within ten minutes her small fire was ablaze, and she held up her numb fingers to absorb some of the heat. She drew her body as close to the fire as she dared, trying to regain the warmth she had lost over the course of the day. The skin of her legs felt numb and distant as the denim of her jeans passed over them. Her toes had lost all feeling hours ago, and she found herself hoping they were all still in place within her sneakers.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them briefly before deciding to hug her chest instead. The light of day continued to recede over the western peaks and a blanket of darkness approached from the east. It washed over her small camp, cloaking the surrounding woods in impenetrable blackness. The lone source of light came from the flicker of her fire, as the moon and stars remained hidden behind a sheath of clouds.

She strafed the near edge of frostbite, but maintained a rotation of limbs near the fire to keep it at bay, if only just. Eventually, weariness began weighing down her eyelids and she felt herself drifting off. She tossed several more logs on the fire, trying to stoke it up enough to catch a few hours of rest. She retracted her arms from their sleeves and huddled them against her shivering body, trying hopelessly to keep her body heat from escaping. She curled into as tight of a ball as she could form, pulling her legs up under the layer of sweaters, and eventually fell into a strikingly vexatious slumber. Her heartbeat slowed to a dangerously low rate as the cold continued to entrench itself. The fire died out, and she failed to wake to stoke it up again.

That night, she dreamt of swimming in a vast body of water, larger than any she had ever seen. The horizon formed a perfect uninterrupted circle, encompassing her with the hopeless absence of any distant land. The water was unfathomably cold. The skin of her face was painfully rimy, and icicles began to form in her hair as she treaded the black water.

Her energy was failing, and she turned this way and that, seeking help. But there was none to be found. With her last ounce of energy, she called his name one last time.

The black water took her, forcing the air from her lungs as it pulled her down into an icy grave.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 5**


	5. Chapter 5 - Strangers

**A/N: I know, right? Updates only a day or two apart!? WHAT IS THIS, AFTERMATH: PART I? What can I say? This was just one of those chapters that came easy, flowing from beginning to end. I got a real kick out of writing it, for some rather clandestine reasons, and it offered a nice, brief change of pace from where the story had been going. So, I finished it in no time.**

**A brilliant idea for the ending came to me today. I know what you're thinking: "What? You didn't know how it was going to end? What kind of author are you? Do you just go into these stories a blindly find your way through them?" Well, in large part, yes. The only story where I knew how it was going to end was Aftermath: Part I, for obvious reasons. Part II wasn't decided until about chapter 18 or so. Part III, well, I've got the advantage of figuring out where I'm going to take it nice and early on, which will help me lead up to it with good pacing.**

**A lot of people have asked if I'm going to incorporate details or themes from the DLC into this story. Short answer: yes. It probably won't be overt, but from time to time, it may be. I don't want to go into too much detail, so I won't. You'll just have to stay tuned.**

**Okay, until next time.**

**Oh, I should probably suggest a soundtrack for this chapter... ummmm... I didn't really have one in mind when I wrote this. So just, um... pick a song from either volume of the soundtrack? "All Gone (Seasons)" is one of my faves. Don't know if it'll fit this chapter, but hey, go for it! I failed at this round, guys, I apologize.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 5<strong>

**STRANGERS**

The sensation of something tugging on his coat roused him out of a deep, frigid sleep. He had wrapped the scarf over his face and pulled down the hat as far as he could before letting himself drift off, and as such, he opened his eyes to a void of darkness. His limbs had gone numb hours ago, and he felt no sensation as he shifted his arm to swat away whatever was tugging at him.

"Jesus!" a woman's voice cried in alarm from the direction of the tugging. "This guy's still alive!"

"What?" a man responded a few steps off before coming closer. "Here! Get back!" Joel could hear the woman scamper back a few steps.

He was suddenly wide awake. A panic gripped him and he thrashed frantically, trying to pull the scarf down. The light of day hit him like a brick in the face. All of existence had suddenly flashed to a blinding white, in dangerous contrast to the black that had preceded it. He cried out and blinked hard, trying to adjust to the sudden change.

Slowly, faint silhouettes began materializing to form trees, rocks, and rolling snow. The figures of a man and woman, standing tense a few paces off, solidified next in his vision. He fumbled for the revolver in his waistband, but his numb fingers made it a difficult task. The strange man realized what he was doing at the very second that Joel worked his fingers around the grip of the revolver. They both raised their guns at each other.

Joel's eyes finally adjusted to the light, which was significantly dimmer than it seemed at first. It was probably sometime in the early morning, just before sunrise. He and the man stared at each other, the hardness in their eyes speaking all that needed to be said. The woman looked back and forth between them for a moment before taking a step forward. She held out her hands, palms down, in a placating gesture.

"Alright, let's just calm down! No one needs to get shot today," she said. Her voice was steady and even, not a trace of fear in her tone.

He kept the gun leveled at the man and struggled to his feet, briefly stumbling on his tingling legs. "The fuck were you doin', pawin' at me like that?" he asked, eyes sliding to the woman.

"Look, man," she said, repeating the placating gesture, "we thought you were dead, okay? You weren't moving. Most people we find out here have died from exposure. We see it every winter. I was just checking to see if you had anything worth taking." She gave a helpless expression and shrugged. "We thought you were dead."

Joel studied the pair for a moment. The woman was seemingly well-prepared for winter, with thick wool gloves and a heavy winter coat. Rich, long dark brown hair peeked out from under her knitted cap, and when the sunlight hit it right, a deep red emerged from within the brown locks. Her face was uncovered, revealing sharp cheekbones, a stern jaw, and the coldest green eyes he had ever seen. Dark green cargo pants covered a pair of military-style boots, and a canvas messenger bag was slung over her chest. Joel guessed she was in her mid-thirties, and looking into her cold green eyes told a story of loss, pain, and survival, but also hope.

The man was probably five or so years younger than Joel. They shared the same brown hair that was becoming more gray with each passing season. The silvery strands didn't stay confined to his head, straying down to fleck his long beard as well. The man, too, looked well-prepared for the cold, considerably better than Joel was. He wore a thick parka, fur-lined hat, and heavy gloves. A bow and quiver were slung over his back. Curiously, he had a small deer antler tethered to a leather strap on each wrist. They would probably prove useful in a fight or when trying to climb a steep grade. His demeanor wasn't dissimilar to Joel's; the look in his eyes was one of a man who had seen his fair share of atrocities, and perhaps committed some of his own.

The man remained silent, keeping his pistol trained on Joel's forehead. The antlers made a faint clunking sound as the wind gently knocked them together. The woman, clearly the more personable of the two, broke the tension once more. She spoke in a commanding tone, "Lower the guns, both of you."

The man waited silently until Joel began lowering his gun, then mirrored his movement until both barrels pointed at the snow between them.

"That's better," the woman said. "No reason for us to go shooting each other up, alerting every Infected for miles around." She let out a soft chuckle, trying unsuccessfully to ease the frostiness that stood between the two parties. "Okay. Now that we aren't about to blow each other's heads off… I'm R-"

"Stop," Joel raised a hand to cut her off. "You two can be on your way."

The man seemed satisfied, even eager, to take Joel up on his suggestion, but the woman was less enthusiastic. "C'mon, man. There's no need to be like that. There _are_ still people out there who won't just shoot you on sight, you know. People who could hel-"

Joel turned his face from the man and gave her a stern look, one that conferred that his mind had been made up and it wouldn't be changed. The barrel of his gun moved a hair's breadth toward her, and the strange man bristled.

"You keep that thing pointed at me," he said firmly. Joel obliged.

The woman gave a resigned shrug and turned to look at the man next to her. His gaze remained stonily fixed upon Joel. She rolled her shoulders, briefly throwing up her hands in surrender. "Alright. Fine. We'll be sure to check for a pulse next time we stumble across someone taking an ice nap. C'mon, D." She tugged at the man's arm, clearly irritated by the exchange, and pulled him after her.

Joel kept his eyes fixed on them and his revolver drawn until they were out of sight. The encounter had left his nerves taut and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The increase in his heart rate also served to pump some desperately needed warm blood into his extremities, and some feeling began to slowly return to his limbs.

His stomach grumbled earnestly, and Joel fished through his pack, pulling out a can of stew to sate his hunger. He popped the tab and peeled back the lid, grateful that a can opener wasn't required for once. He sat, eagerly downing mouthful after mouthful of stew, as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. He tossed the can aside, pulled in the flaps of his coat, and put the sun to his back as he trudged on.

* * *

><p>Something was pulling her out of the depths. The black, crushing, frozen depths that had become so comforting. The cold embraced her, filled her, ingrained in every fiber of her being. She was becoming the cold itself, as her body transitioned to match its surroundings.<p>

But there was something struggling against the cold dark of the abyss. She felt it pierce the endless void like a bolt of lightning, reaching in to spirit her away from her icy grave. A warmth began to build in her chest, emanating outward in weak pulses from her heart. In the distance, somewhere above, somewhere vague, she could feel her eyelids fluttering. The frost that had formed over them thawed and receded.

She began rising from the void of nothingness, slowly at first but rapidly gaining speed. A wall of light was approaching swiftly overhead, and she burst through it with tremendous impact. Her vision was blurry and striving to focus, but the water of her eyes felt frozen. A panic took root, jostling with the cold for dominion over her. She blinked rapidly, clearing away the sheen of blurriness, and some definition was given to the world.

She felt the strong, immediate heat of a nearby fire and saw flames dancing in her peripheral. A face swept into her vision. A woman's face. Ellie blinked several more times, trying to gain her bearings. The face was striking, with defined lines and cold, penetrating green eyes not unlike her own. Pieces of dark auburn hair had slipped out of the knitted cap to fall alongside the face.

The woman turned away briefly. "Hey, she's awake!" Ellie finally realized where she was and scampered backwards, frightened. The woman assumed a soothing tone, crouching low and holding her hands out to show she meant no harm. She approached as you would a startled, wounded animal. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you."

Ellie regarded her warily, trying to gauge her demeanor. The woman's expression was sincere, perhaps even soft. She offered no reply, opting instead to glare at the woman as menacingly as she could manage. She couldn't afford to let herself look weak, though in her condition it was probably unavoidable.

"Warm yourself up," the woman implored, gesturing to the fire. "Please." Noticing Ellie was remaining still, the woman backed away from the fire so that the distance between them could be maintained.

The cold that had taken root in the center of her bones wrestled some influence back from the usurping panic, and Ellie couldn't help but creep up next to the fire to begin warming herself. She was shuddering involuntarily and uncontrollably, and brought herself dangerously close to the flames, hungry for their warmth after nearly freezing to death.

"You realize how lucky you are that we found you?" the woman asked. Ellie's eyes flitted up to meet hers for an instant before darting back to the fire. "I don't think I've ever felt a heartbeat that faint. You were probably moments away from… well… you know…" Ellie shivered visibly at the thought. The woman's eyes remained on her face. "What's your name?" The waifish girl offered no reply.

Without warning, a man strode up into the hollow beneath the fallen pines. His sudden presence caught Ellie off-guard, and she instinctively pulled her pistol from her waistband, pointing it at the newcomer.

He looked at her blankly. "God… you too?" He tossed down a stringer of three fat rabbits next to the fire, seemingly disaffected by the gun pointed in his direction.

The woman turned to get Ellie's attention. "This is my… uh, well... what would you call it?" her question was directed at the man.

"Associate?" he offered absently.

"That works, I guess. Associate," she turned back to Ellie. "He's my…" she searched for a better descriptor than 'associate,' "traveling partner, I suppose." She studied Ellie's face for a moment. "Honey, do you understand a single word I'm saying?"

"Yes," Ellie said. Her voice was so frail she barely heard it resonate in her own ears.

The woman eased a bit at that. "Good," she replied, letting out a long sigh and turning to address the man. "I thought we had one of those 'raised by wolves' scenarios for a second there."

The man huffed and began idly skinning and cleaning the rabbits, his brown eyes making brief glances in Ellie's direction from time to time. Ellie watched him intently as he worked. He moved the knife with fastidious deliberation, as someone who had done this several times. He made it look as natural as breathing. Her eyes drifted to the peculiar antlers that hung at his wrists. What on earth were those for?

"What's a slip of a girl like you doing out here all by herself?" the man asked, startling Ellie from her reverie.

She fumbled for words. "Looking for someone."

The woman shot a glance to the man, then returned her gaze to Ellie. "Who?"

Ellie considered the question. "My associate," she intoned.

The woman couldn't help but smile, especially upon seeing the perturbed expression on the man's face. "Honey, you shouldn't be out here alone, especially dressed like this," she said, gesturing to Ellie's apparel. She began absentmindedly searching through a messenger bag that she had brought around from behind her back.

"I don't like company."

The woman looked back at her, a twinge of sadness seeping in at the edges of her eyes. "I see." She went back to digging through the bag. After a moment, she produced a pair of gloves and extended them to Ellie. "Take these."

Ellie didn't hesitate, grabbing the gloves and pulling them on immediately. She relished the feeling of fabric protecting her raw, windburned skin. The man had gone into the woods and returned with a handful of straight sticks. A few minutes later, he had the three rabbits roasting over the fire on makeshift spits. It was then that Ellie realized just how hungry she was. She had drifted off the previous night without eating anything. Her stomach roiled within her, the ache of hunger growing more intense as the meat began to crackle over the flames.

"What are you two doing out here?" she asked the strangers after a long stretch of silence.

The woman smiled warmly. "We're looking for a place to live. To really... settle down, you know? We've both," she gestured to the man, "been moving from place to place for too long. We want to stay put for awhile. We caught wind of this… this crazy rumor of a town… a town with electricity!" She made a flourish as she emphasized the final word. The woman paused, expecting a shade of surprise to cross Ellie's face. When nothing came, she continued. "Anyway, we heard it's somewhere in western Wyoming, so… we're looking for it…"

Ellie looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to decide whether or not she should direct them to Jackson. They seemed nice enough. They had probably saved her life, had given her clothing, and were about to give her some food. They could have easily left her for dead and stolen her backpack and gun. They could have done much, much worse than that, but they hadn't. These two could probably find a place in Jackson. Ellie felt a bit of tension ease, and her standoffishness lessened.

The man wandered off into the woods again, and Ellie seized the opportunity. "Are you two… you know…" she made a primitive gesture to the woman, implying romantic involvement.

The woman studied Ellie for a moment, trying to determine whether or not she was being serious, and then burst out in a bout of uproarious laughter. It startled Ellie, and she found herself tensed and looking around nervously.

"Keep it down," the man's voice chastised in deadpan from somewhere in the woods. "You want Infected crawling all over this place, or what?"

"Sorry," the woman replied in a loud, exaggerated whisper, then turned back to Ellie. "No. We're not, in that sense. We're just partners. We travel together, watch each other's backs. That sort of thing."

Ellie nodded and turned back to stare longingly at the cooking rabbits. "I understand that sort of thing."

"He's not, uh… well… hmm," she paused, a pensive look crossing her face, "I don't know if he's even capable of being romantic with anyone. He's an… interesting guy. Let's just leave it at that," she said in a low voice, a conspiratorial grin forming at the corners of her mouth. "But, I gotta hand it to him: he's a survivor through and through, and he's good for staying alive."

The man returned and pulled a rabbit off of the fire, checking the meat for doneness. Satisfied, he pulled the other two from the heat and handed one to the woman and one to Ellie. After it had cooled enough to eat, she tore into it ravenously. The two strangers looked on, initially surprised, then disgusted, then in awe, then impressed.

Ellie looked up at them as she gnawed at the carcass, blushing in self-consciousness. "Shorry," she said through a mouthful of food, "I'm jusht sho fucking hungry."

The woman stifled an endeared laugh behind a repressed smile and continued eating. The man remained as stoic as ever, chewing through the blank look on his face. Ellie looked at him for a long moment. He reminded her a bit of Joel, but somehow even more aloof than Joel was when she'd first met him. She had never seen a robot, and barely knew more than the concept of them, but if they did exist, this guy could probably pass for one.

"What'd you mean, 'you too?'" she asked him.

He continued eating for a while before realizing that her question had been directed at him. He blinked in realization and cocked his head at her. "Beg pardon?"

"When I pointed my gun at you earlier, you said 'God… you too?'" she imitated his gravelly, monotone voice and stern expression while quoting him, conjuring another stifled snicker from the woman.

The man gave his partner an irritated look. "Oh... nothing, really. It's just that you're not the first person who's pointed a gun at me today. Hell, you're not the first person who we've found sleeping out in the elements like a goddamned idiot."

Ellie's heart leapt against her ribcage, threatening to burst through it completely. She ignored his snide remark. "What? You found someone else?"

The woman answered in a nonchalant tone. "Yeah, just some belligerent old guy-"

"What'd he look like?" Ellie interrupted, barely containing the excitement in her voice.

The woman took another bite of her rabbit and shrugged. Ellie fought to remain patient while she chewed and swallowed the bite. "I don't know. Late forties, early fifties? Brownish-grayish hair. Beard. Gave my partner here a run for his money in the 'gruff' department."

Ellie leapt to her feet, tossing the mostly-eaten rabbit carcass to the ground. "Where? Where did you find him? Did you see where he was heading?" she frantically rattled off each question without waiting for a response.

The man and woman shared a confused look with each other. Then the woman remembered what Ellie had said about looking for someone. "Oh, uh… further up the ridge to the west," she pointed to a ridge visible over the treetops. "We parted ways a few hours ago, though…"

Ellie's eyes danced over the snow. He was still alive, and she _was_ on the right track. She could scarcely keep her composure as excitement rattled around in her chest. "Joel," she whispered.

"Is that who you were looking for?" the woman asked. Ellie nodded. "Is he your dad?"

A faint grimace broke over her face. "Something like that. Did he give any indication of where he was heading?"

She shook her head. "No, our conversation was about as brief as humanly possible. He's, uh… he's a real friendly guy."

"I know what you mean," Ellie replied agreeably, her eyes drifting to the ridge to the west. "I have to catch up to him."

The woman turned her head to follow Ellie's gaze. "Well, he's got a few hours' head start on you, so you'll have to make up ground if you want to catch him." Ellie was about to trot off into the woods when the woman stood briskly and held out an arm to stop her. "Hold your horses."

Ellie tensed, unsure of what would happen next. These strangers still had the upper hand. There were two of them, and they were both much larger than she was, though she had taken out several others like them before. Her hand drifted to her back pocket where her treasured switchblade eagerly awaited. The woman dug into her pack again, pulling out a hat and scarf and offering them to her. Ellie let her anxiety subside.

"You stay warm out there... and stop trying to get yourself killed, will you? Don't sleep on the bare snow. Cut down some pine boughs and sleep on them, it'll help you retain some heat."

"Thanks," Ellie said, taking the garments and advice. She turned to set off into the woods, but hesitated. She realized how brusque she had been though they had showed her nothing but kindness. She knew from experience how rare of commodity kindness was in a world such as this.

She let out a deep exhale and turned back to the two strangers. She spoke hurriedly, eager to seek out Joel's trail. "The town, the rumored one you're looking for? It's real. It's called Jackson. That's where I came from. They do have electricity. The city is guarded, so when you make your approach, do so with your weapons holstered and your arms in the air. It's a couple day's walk east of here. When you find a road, follow it. It should take you there."

The woman's eyes lit up with excitement. She drew Ellie close in a quick embrace. Ellie was too surprised to react, stuck trying to decide whether she should pull the switchblade or return the embrace. The woman pulled away before Ellie had made up her mind.

"Thank you!" she said, a wash of relief flooding over her face.

"Don't mention it," Ellie replied, giving her best attempt at a smile.

The woman looked at her for a long time, long enough that Ellie grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her gaze. "I hope you find him."

Ellie's eyes fell. "Me too. Good luck in Jackson. Ask for Tommy, tell him Ellie sent you and that she's alright."

The woman gave her another smile and nodded. "We will. Good luck, Ellie."

"You too."

They parted ways, heading in opposite directions, as snow began to fall again. The warmth that Ellie had gathered from the fire and new winter gear began to fade as the snow worsened. She wrapped the scarf as she had on the road the previous winter, leaving only her eyes exposed, before pulling on the hat the mysterious woman had given her. She flexed her fingers in her new gloves and looked to the pass near the western ridge.

"Alright, Joel…"

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 6**


	6. Chapter 6 - Revenants

**A/N: Time for another chapter. I've had the events of the latter half of this chapter planned for quite some time, and the moment has finally come to bring it to light. It's a nod to the developers of the game. Something they wanted to implement, but just couldn't make happen. Well, I don't have to deal with the constrictions they did, so it gets to become a reality.**

**Oh, if you want a soundtrack choice for this chapter, you can never go wrong with "Returning" from the Soundtrack Vol. 1. I seriously listen to the track all the time while I write. It just really, really nails the tone I'm going for.**

**This author's note is short. I don't have much to say I guess. Oh. Follow the blog! Thanks for the reviews! 'Til next time!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 6<strong>

**REVENANTS**

"You really should turn around," she said, looking back over her shoulder as she trudged along beside him. Joel stubbornly refused to respond, not letting his eyes stray from the woods ahead of him. "You know Ellie as well as anyone. Do you really think she'd just let you run off and stay put herself?"

His resolve wavered for the briefest instant. She was right, of course. Ellie would have torn off into the woods after him the moment she caught wind of his desertion. Knowing her, she probably grabbed her backpack and coat and ran straight out the door, not bothering to bring the proper supplies and apparel for the harsh winter looming ahead.

He looked up, blinking as the heavy flakes lighted on his eyelashes. Winter's chill was constantly threshing its way through the fabric of his clothing, clawing at his warmth, desperate to steal it away. Ellie wouldn't survive out here alone. Doubt was settling in, making itself at home in his subconscious.

"It's just so… fitting, isn't it?" she continued smugly, revelling as she twisted the proverbial knife. "Even when you try to protect her, you drag her into harm's way. I've told you a million times, Joel, but you're too goddamn thick to listen. _You can't save her_."

He ground his teeth together and clenched his eyes shut, attempting to drive her from his head. "No… I do _not_ accept that."

She let out an amused scoff. "I don't give a shit whether or not you accept it, that's beside the point. This world is going to chew her up and spit her out, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

He bristled in anger, but had no retort. She was right, and he was powerless to stop it. He shifted his focus to concentrate on blocking out the thought of Ellie, sprawled on the ground with a mouthful of blood, pleading for the end. A deep ache of pain swept through him.

"You could have let her death mean something. She could have died for us… for _all_ of us. But no, you had to be a self-centered prick and steal her away, and now she's going to die for nothing. That is, if she isn't dead already, cold and alone in these woods."

He fought to ignore her, but she was there, tendrils of influence spidering their way through his brain. Wherever he managed to snuff her out, she'd reappear somewhere else to continue her goading.

"Turn around. Go find her before it's too late. Take her back to Jackson, back to where she's safe." Joel continued crunching through the snow, paying no heed. "Every step you take leads her further out here... to her death, Joel." He shook his head, but offered no further reply. "Is this what you want? Huh? You want her dead? And to think, I thought for a second that you actually loved her."

At that, Joel had heard enough. The coal of enmity that had been festering in the pit of his gut ignited, stoked by her incessant taunting. He roared in anger, spun to face her, and tackled her into the nearest snow drift. He drove his fists into her face, over and over again. "Shut up! Shut your goddamn mouth!" Again and again, a flurry of blows pulverized her until her face was unrecognizable, an expanse of glistening snow.

Joel blinked, and found himself kneeling in the disheveled drift. The ground before him showed no traces of a body. No blood. Just hollowed out pockmarks where his fists had buffeted the powder. He was breathing hard, and sat down on his heels while the moment of hysteria passed. Biting cold nipped at his skin where the snow had snuck between the layers of clothing.

"That was quite the display," she said coolly, stepping out from behind a nearby tree. The bullet hole in her forehead mocked him openly. "Face it, Joel. _You_ killed her."

"No," he whispered, not pulling his gaze from the snow drift beneath him. "No, no, no…"

A low, vindictive laugh rasped in her throat. It echoed in his ears, spiteful and pernicious, and began to rattle through his head, threatening to shake his mind from its foundations. "_You_ killed her! Just like you killed your daughter!"

"No…"

"Just like you killed Tess…"

"No, God, please no…"

"Just like you killed Lakyn." She was now kneeling before him and, against his will, his gaze was drawn up to fix on hers. "You bring death and suffering to everyone you love."

He shook his head, refusing to believe it. But, deep inside, deep in the confines of his heart, he knew. She was right. He buried his head in his hands.

"You should have just ended it all when you had the chance all those years ago. You remember, don't you?" He shook his head in dismay, not wanting to revisit those memories. "It was after you let Sarah die. You had the chance. You had the gun to your head and you couldn't pull the trigger. Sound familiar, you coward?"

"Go away…"

"All those lives you cost with your lack of spine..." she said, eyes drifting to the snow. "Sure, it was too late to save Sarah, but think about the rest. Tess. Lakyn. They would still be alive if it weren't for your gutlessness. You condemned them."

Joel knelt in the snow, going physically and emotionally numb, for the better part of an hour as the truth sunk in. Marlene was right. He really _was_ a special kind of bastard. He brought nothing but death and despair to the people he cared about, and yet he couldn't take the steps necessary to ensure that it never happened again. All he could manage to do was run and hope against hope that Ellie wouldn't follow. He was such a fool.

The staccato snap of a twig cracking froze him in place.

* * *

><p>Seeds of doubt were beginning to sprout in her conscience. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have told those two strangers how to get to Jackson. Joel had taught her not to trust anyone, no matter how good or well-intentioned they seemed. David was a harrowing reminder of that.<p>

She scolded herself and hoped that nothing would come of it. Jackson _was_ well defended, after all. The electrified fences and guard towers were effective. It would all be fine. Still, she reminded herself to never let it happen again.

Clumps of heavy snow were starting to gather on her auburn hair and she shook them off anxiously. Her mind wandered as she plowed on, and snippets of memories streaked across her vision. The deep, unsettling feeling of being hunted began to claw at her. The sensation of her switchblade plunging into the neck of one of David's men coursed through her arm. The fountain of anger that had erupted when she finally gained the upper hand against him.

All of these colluded to crush her, weighing heavy on her shoulders with every step. She found herself wanting to just slump to the ground, curl into a ball, and give up, but the need to find Joel drove her on. She lashed that motivation to her body, fixing it to her legs to keep them moving, wrapping it around her heart to keep her warm.

She began ascending the ridge where the strangers had run into Joel. After another hour of climbing, she found herself slick with sweat and thoroughly winded. She shed the outer layer of her coat to cool off and sat down on a boulder that protruded from the deepening snow. She took a number of deep breaths before surveying the area around her.

A nearby drift caught her eye on her second pass over the area. The smooth, uninterrupted slopes of the surrounding snow were interrupted by this drift, its surface bumpy and irregular underneath a layer of freshly fallen snow. She stood and sauntered over to it. It was then that she recognized a set of footprints leading off into the woods. Judging by their spacing, whoever had made them was probably running. She threw her coat and backpack on and followed the trail, searching for more signs. A broken twig here, an upturned splash of dirt there.

The footprints led her another fifty feet before the patterns became irregular. They circled back on each other and then began scuffling about. Ellie pushed at the snow with her feet, seeing if she could uncover anything else. A red smudge stood out like a flag amongst the driven snow. It was the red of blood. Her eyes darted around the area, falling on two shapes that were unmistakably bodies under a sheet of snow. She swallowed hard and approached them cautiously, desperately hoping one of them wasn't Joel.

She flipped the bodies over and breathed a sigh of relief. They bore the telltale signs of runners, with long, snaking fingers of fungus coursing about just beneath the skin. Misaligned and hollow eyes stared blankly at the heavens. Ellie checked their teeth and fingers, but found no signs of flesh or blood. A good sign. Joel probably hadn't even broken a sweat dealing with these two.

She turned from the bodies and began searching for Joel's trail again. A set of subtle depressions lead away from the bodies, continuing westward up the ridge. She crouched beneath an overhanging branch and followed the trail of rapidly disappearing footprints. The snow continued to fall, undeterred by Ellie's wishes. She held up a hand to block the snow and looked up at the sky. There were probably three hours until-

"Run, little rabbit, run…" the voice sneered, inches from her ear, causing her to start. He was back. Ellie's veins turned to ice.

In an instant, the switchblade was flicked open in her hand and she spun, swinging the knife recklessly. But it cut only through the empty mountain air. Her eyes darted to and fro, but there was no one there. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Her breaths were short and rapid.

"No…" she murmured. "No, no, no, no…"

She continued spinning in place, ready for him to jump out from behind a tree and finish what he had started last winter. A long, long moment passed, and the sense of paranoia persisted, but he never came. She was transfixed by fear as the snow fell, each heavy clump dragging her to her knees.

She knelt there, clutching the switchblade with trembling hands, for a long time. He never emerged from the forest to strike her down for good. She studied the gleaming blade that rested against her palm, turning it so that her reflection became visible in the sliver of steel.

"You got this, Ellie," she said to her reflection in the blade. "You got this. He's dead. You killed him, and he's never coming back. David is _dead_."

She heard rustling in the nearby underbrush and looked up from the switchblade, her heart skipping several beats at the sound. The foliage was too thick to make anything out, but something was definitely there. Something not human. She rocked back onto her heels to put herself into a crouching position, ready to strike should the need arise, and waited.

The creature took its time rooting around through the brush before coming to the edge of the narrow clearing. Ellie's heart was thundering within her, and she fought to keep from fleeing outright. She clutched the grip of the switchblade tighter and readied herself. It poked its head through the bushes and Ellie gasped.

She blinked several times to clear away the moisture that had settled on her lashes and then looked again. It was a wolf. Terror wrapped its fingers around her heart and tugged for her to run, but she knew it'd be pointless. She would be run down in no time at all. The wolf looked at her ponderously with ice blue eyes before sniffing the air. Ellie remained as still as she could manage, brandishing the switchblade.

It stepped fully into the clearing, and she was surprised at its size. It wasn't nearly as large as she expected. Its fur was a blend of dark charcoal, tipped in black in places, cloud gray, and mottled white. There was a collar around its neck. Ellie tipped her head quizzically. Wolves, as far as she knew, weren't domesticated.

The dog opened its mouth, but didn't bare its teeth. It gave a wide grin, with its tongue lolling out in a playful pant. Ellie's fear eased, if only just. Tentatively, she pulled off her left glove and reached her hand out toward the dog. It approached warily but gave no signs of aggression. Ellie kept the switchblade ready if worst came to worst. It touched its wet nose to the tips of her fingers and, after a moment, began to lick them.

Ellie realized she was gaping in wonder and quickly shut her mouth in embarrassment. She made sure not to make any sudden movements with her body, and carefully moved her hand up to pet the dog on the head. It seemed quite eager for the attention, and leaned into her hand as she stroked its fur.

"There's a good boy," she cooed softly.

The dog made a slow circle around where she crouched in the snow, sniffing at her leg, her jacket, her backpack, and the stock of the rifle the hung over her back. As it came around her, she reached up to stroke its back. The dog permitted the contact, offering no protest. Ellie's nerves slowly began to unclench themselves.

The dog stood before her again, its breath visible as it panted. Ellie reached up to the collar and found a small, round dogtag. It was cheap, thin metal, not unlike the types used for Firefly pendants, and to her surprise her eyes met the iconic logo on the reverse side. This dog must have belonged to a Firefly at some point. She turned the tag over to reveal a name stamped into the metal.

"Titus," she said. The dog's ears perked up at its name. "Hi there, Titus. I'm Ellie." She scratched him behind the ear and Titus wagged his tail. "You must be hungry, huh boy?"

She pulled a can from her backpack as Titus looked on, mired in curiosity. She used her switchblade once again to crudely open the can. She ate half of the rations before dumping the rest onto the ground. Titus devoured them ardently and looked back up at Ellie, hoping for more.

"Sorry, boy. That's all I can spare for now," she said with overt regret in her voice, hoping Titus would pick up on the tone. She took off her other glove and began scratching him around the neck. She buried her fingers in the thick fur. He was remarkably warm, given the ambient temperature.

She stood, put her gloves back on, and shouldered her backpack once more. Titus shook himself to clear some of the snow that had gathered on his back and shoulders, then looked up at her eagerly, tongue lolling about again.

Ellie looked down at him fondly. Her mind drifted back to her conversation with Joel back in Jackson, where she had begged him for a puppy. The pieces hadn't fallen into place for it to happen, as domesticated dogs aren't all that common anymore. Titus seemed too old to be a puppy, but she relished his company and found herself breathing easier than before. She was immensely relieved that he turned out to be friendly. She felt some warmth return to her heart for the first time in days.

"C'mon, Titus. Let's go find Joel."

She trotted off after the fading footprints and Titus followed on her heels.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 7**


	7. Chapter 7 - Deterioration

**A/N: Why does everyone assume I'm going to kill the dog? That would be such a clichéd thing to do. **

**For some reason this chapter feels like a "filler" chapter to me, though it wasn't written as one. Maybe I'm just so excited for the things that I have planned that having to drudge through all of the setup makes it feel like filler in comparison. Oh well, I hope it doesn't read that way. I SWEAR IT'S NOT FILLER! But seriously, I have some jaw-dropping things planned for the rest of this fic. I'm not completely sure whether it'll be 15 chapters or 20, but in either case, it's going to get... well, I'm not sure of the appropriate word for it. I'm sure that at some points along the way I will have people cursing my name and burning effigies of me. Feel free to do this, by the way. Just stay away from the voodoo stuff.**

**Something I wanted to draw some attention to is a TLoU-inspired film project that a reader of mine is doing. He's a part of Samsung's Launching People competition in the UK. He needs some support in order for his entry to be considered, so head over to the "Launching People UK" page on Facebook, search for the film project titled Aftermath, and click "Support." It's really that easy, and the more TLoU-inspired art gets out there, the better, so go do it.**

**Soundtrack choice for this chapter: "All Gone (The Outside)" [put it on repeat]**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 7<strong>

**DETERIORATION**

The snowfall was unrelenting. For the last three days, heavy clumps had been falling consistently, piling up on the ground and making passage through the snow quite challenging. But it had its advantages too. The deep snow meant that trudging along left long scars carved into the uninterrupted blanket of powder, scars that, even after hours of snowfall, were visible in contrast to the flawless plane into which they cut. The deep snow also provided some windbreak at night, and Ellie had taken to digging out a pocket into the drifts where she and Titus could hunker down to wait out the darkness.

Running across him had proven to be a boon. He put off heat like a furnace, and she became convinced that she wouldn't have lasted another night without him. Her close call the night before she found him could attest to that. He was an affable companion and had warmed up to her rather quickly. He followed her around attentively and even led the way from time to time once he had figured out they were following the subtle valleys in the snow.

Ellie marveled at his resilience. He didn't seem to feel the cold at all and apparently wasn't bothered by the snow beyond shaking it off from time to time. She drew no small amount of energy from him and found her spirits lifted in kind.

She released her grip on the drawn bowstring and it thrummed against the coarse fabric of her sleeve. The arrow leapt forth, meeting its mark on the neck of a skittish squirrel. It fell from the trunk and Ellie sauntered over to retrieve the arrow. She tossed the animal to Titus and he tore into it eagerly.

While he was otherwise occupied, she snuck into the woods in search of some food of her own. There was no shortage of rabbits in this section of the mountains, and before long she saw one emerge through the underbrush. She nocked another arrow to the bowstring and drew it back slowly. She took a deep breath, then exhaled as she released the taut string. She swelled with inner pride as the arrow hit home. She really _was_ a good shot with these things.

In her rush to leave Jackson, she hadn't bothered to grab the bow that she kept in her room, but she and Titus had happened across an abandoned hunting cabin the day before. Within it she had found the bow and three arrows that were remarkably sharp, given their age.

Ellie returned to find that Titus had made quick work of the squirrel. He chomped down on a couple mouthfuls of snow to ease his thirst, then looked up at her with his earnest grin.

"You like that, huh boy?" she asked. Titus dipped his head in what must have been a coincidental nod.

Having someone to talk to, though they couldn't be expected to respond, worked wonders on Ellie's morale. Beyond that, his presence had staved off any further appearances of the phantom David. Even thinking the name made her shiver unwillingly.

Suddenly, Titus's ears perked up and he turned his head attentively to the left. Ellie came alongside him and crouched, following the line of his gaze. "What is it? What do you hear?" she whispered.

She strained her ears, but Titus interrupted her with a low growl. She scanned the trees in the direction he was looking, but couldn't make out much through the snowfall. She eventually heard before she saw. It was the telltale moans of stage one Infected, probably recently turned. She swallowed hard and nocked the arrow onto the bowstring once more, readying herself. She stretched out her left arm, the bow parallel to the ground, and drew the string back to her stomach.

_I fucking swear to God, if one of these is you, Joel, I'm going to shoot you in the fucking head,_ she thought to herself. Two figures emerged, crashing clumsily through the pine boughs. They were definitely runners, and were encrusted with snow and ice, every edge gilded a frosty white. To her immense relief, neither wore the flannel and beard that had become synonymous with Joel.

Titus bristled at the pair of Infected, making himself as large as he could manage and baring his teeth. Fortunately, he didn't charge, but nor did he retreat. He stayed adamantly at Ellie's side, perhaps deciding whether he should attack or flee.

Ellie sighted in the first shot on one of the shambling runners, then released the bowstring. The arrow pierced through the heart and the Infected fell backwards into the snow. The flurry of activity drew the other one out of its befuddled stupor and it began looking around frantically, its bulging eyes darting over the woods. Ellie set another arrow and drew the bow taut once more. The arrow flew, a silent sentence punctuated by a dull, unceremonious thud.

Ellie left Titus's side and retrieved the arrows, making sure to search their bodies for any supplies. Finding none, she returned to the agitated canine, still standing where she left him, wary of the felled creatures.

"It's okay, boy. I took care of those two. No sweat, see?" She crouched down next to him, but was hesitant to pet him in his anxious state. Instead, she reattached the bow to its holster and tied the rabbit to a strap on her backpack.

She gave a slight grimace upon standing, running her palm over her left thigh. Crouching for any amount of time always seemed to tug against the scar tissue. The bite mark had healed fairly well, considering the amount of damage the clicker's jaws had done. Even so, she still felt an occasional burning sensation emanating from it whenever the muscles beneath it were strained.

Ellie continued along, following the faint trail. She looked back to find Titus still hadn't moved. She patted the side of her leg a few times. "Titus! C'mon, boy!" She pursed her lips and flexed her newfound ability, whistling a few shrill times to get his attention. The dog snapped to attention and bounded through the snow to follow her.

Both of their ears perked up at the sound of distant thunder rolling through the trees. Again, it was the sound of gunfire in the distance to the west. Titus wagged his tail as he looked up at her. She smiled back, and they set off at as brisk of pace as they could manage.

* * *

><p>The range of mountains was sloping into foothills with each westward step. The trees were thinning out, though the snow had doggedly refused to follow suit. Before him lie the rolling hills of eastern Idaho, buried under a thick duvet of fresh powder. The nights in the mountains hadn't been kind, but he had survived and somehow managed to keep frostbite's reach just beyond the breadth of his extremities.<p>

The nicks and bruises that marred his face were beginning to fade, though the pain that dwelt beneath them remained more or less intact. Some wounds left scars that ran deeper than flesh. Some wounds altered you permanently, rewriting your soul. The image of the moment when the fire of life was snuffed out within the glistening pools of Lakyn's eyes was one such scar, still fresh and tender. Another was the same sight, the extinguishment of life, but in the eyes of his precious daughter. It was an older scar, faded and silvery, yet it remained, and straying across it still evoked a twinging ache from his core.

Joel shook the pangs away and focused on the way forward. The foothills fell to a raised spine under the snow that he could only assume had been a road at some point. It stretched on in both directions, bending from south to west. He made his way down the slope and ascended the spine, taking the western path.

The sun hung high overhead, having just begun its slide toward the horizon. His shadow trailed along, nipping at his heels as he went. Walking out in the open was a jarring contrast after having spent the last number of days clambering over pine covered mountains. Walking along something as uneventful as a road led to falling into a sort of walking doze, and Joel found himself lost in his thoughts before too long.

"Joel. Incoming," an all-too-familiar voice said.

The sound snapped him out of his trance. The sun had slid halfway to the horizon. Turning back to look, he was surprised at how far behind him the mountains were. He must have been walking for a few hours.

His eyes darted around, trying to triangulate the source of the approaching moans. Three figures were ascending the spine of the road from his right. He scolded himself for not paying closer attention. The runners were too close. There was no time to prepare to take them out quietly. He pulled the revolver from his waistband.

"Shit," he muttered as he raised the revolver at the lead runner.

The shot sparked a ringing in his ears and the recoil sent a shockwave through his arm, aggravating all of the still-healing wounds. The bullet embedded itself into the runner's heart, causing it to stumble and collapse, plunging into the deep powder. The snow certainly had its advantages, hampering the advance of the Infected.

The second shot sent another wave of dull pain through his body, and the back of the second runner's skull opened like floodgates, staining the snow at its back. It tumbled lifelessly to the ground, obscured by a deep drift.

Joel turned his attention to the final runner and his heart fell to the pit of his stomach. It had been a woman. Sprouts of luminescent fungi were beginning to emerge between locks of straight black hair. Its eyes, wild with insanity and ringed with tendrils of putrid fungus, were an unmistakable, piercing blue. Its skin was a pale, sickly gray, though at one point it had obviously been fair. He blinked, trying to clear away the impossible image, but it would not heed. It was Lakyn. Undeniably. His finger fell paralytic on the trigger.

"What are you waiting for?" the voice spoke into his ear. "You killed her once before."

Joel stood there stupefied, his torpid body refusing to move. The runner kept advancing, but he couldn't pull the trigger. He threw all that remained of his once-formidable will at the trigger, as he had at the riverside after Lakyn's death, but now, as then, it proved immovable.

"Why? Why!?" the runner wailed, coherence deteriorating under the burden of psychosis. "Why?!"

And then it was on him. He felt himself being tackled to the ground. A halo of powdery snow encompassed him as he struggled against the Infected. It thrashed against him viciously, the snap of its jaws making a hollow knocking noise as it tried desperately to latch onto his flesh.

"Why, Joel?" the voice whispered. He felt the heat of its breath on his ear. "Why can't you pull the trigger? Why can't you put her out of her misery?"

Survival instinct finally kicked in, and Joel fought hard to keep the creature at bay. It was over him, driving its face forward, gradually closing the gap between them.

"Do it," the voice in his ear goaded in a sinister, abrasive whisper. "Kill her."

Suddenly, the revolver was pressed against the runner's temple and the trigger finally relented. The gunshot rendered him temporarily deaf as a spray of red burst from the opposite side of the creature's head. Joel pushed the limp body off and scrambled away on his elbows.

"Well, I'll be... you had it in you after all," Marlene remarked, standing over him with an expression of bland approval spread wide across her face.

He turned his gaze from her to the runner's face, and all of the resemblance dissolved. Its hair was brown, not black as it had been a second earlier, and its eyes were a hollow gray. Joel shook his head in hopes of clearing it, a futile notion as of late.

She scoffed nonchalantly. "You're losing it, Joel."

He turned back to face her, only to find that he was alone on the crest of the road. The three bodies around him tainted the snow a deep crimson. He looked between the three of them, then up at the town skirting the horizon. There would be shelter and supplies within the city limits.

He pressed his fingers to his temples. "C'mon, goddammit, get a hold of yourself. You're better than this. She's dead."

"Uh-huh," she responded, echoing within the confines of his skull.

He reached down, scooped up a handful of snow, and drove it into his face, hoping the cold shock would usher in some lucidity. He shook the flakes from his face and rose to his feet. He turned toward the town, putting the bloodied corpses behind him, and soldiered on.

* * *

><p>Ellie had reached the foothills of the mountains at the moment the sun met the horizon. A front had rolled in from the west, pushing back the cloud cover with a blast of arctic chill. Once the snow had tapered off, Joel's path became even easier to follow. The scars of his stride led her to a raised flat ribbon that she immediately recognized as a snow-covered roadway.<p>

She scanned the area, hoping to find a suitable place to wait out the night. Before leaving the woods, she had made sure to grab enough firewood to cook the rabbit for dinner. Joel's tracks led to the west, but the meandering strip of road met its vanishing point at the horizon with no sign of structure in sight. Making camp and cooking dinner by the side of the road would have to do tonight.

Titus trotted up the roadway, bounding along Joel's tracks eagerly, looking back at Ellie as if to say 'come on, what are you waiting for?' With the temperature plummeting, finding a place out of the wind would be paramount. Joel was probably still hours ahead. There was no use following his trail in the dead of night without a source of light.

She descended the slope into the ditch and began to dig a pocket for them to stay the night. Her fingers grew numb from the work, but before long she had managed to form a primitive igloo of sorts, though it was devoid of a roof. It would provide an ample windbreak for a fire and a place to sleep.

Ellie built the fire and cooked the rabbit as Titus took to exploring the nearby area. He seemed to stay close enough, but his curiosity always led to him roaming in a wide radius around camp. She sat by herself, eating quietly as she stared into the embers. She let her mind wander, frowning from time to time as it tended to stray toward dark places.

Eventually, Titus tired of his wandering and returned to the dug-out alcove. He circled a few times before finding the appropriate area, then curled up on the snow. Ellie moved over to him, wrapping her waifish form around his, to soak up his endless warmth.

She lie there, waiting for sleep to come, stroking Titus's fur. "Tomorrow," she said confidently. "Tomorrow's going to be a good day, Titus. We're gonna find him." She nuzzled into his fur. He smelt of clean snow and dried leaves over the faintest hint of dog. "I just know it."

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 8**


	8. Chapter 8 - Malice

**A/N: Oh man, another rapid-fire update! Holy smokes! Everyone go crazy!**

**Well, I'm glad last chapter didn't read too much like filler. It just kind of felt like it in light of what was to come. Things are going to start picking up a bit as this progresses until we finally reach the climax of the entire Aftermath series. I can't wait to get to it, and I can't wait to see everyone's response. Ohhhh man. ****Thanks for your continued reading of this story. I really appreciate the time you've taken out of your day to read and review this. I love hearing people's thoughts develop as the story goes on.**

**Um. I don't have a good soundtrack choice for this chapter. Pick something from the soundtrack that edges a bit on the intense side of things, and it should suffice.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 8<strong>

**MALICE**

"Alright. Your sidearm holstered?" she asked.

He turned his opposite hip toward her, openly displaying the pistol snugly secured in its holster. She looked up at his face and was met with a groused expression. She gestured for him to hold his hands in the air, to which he gave an irritated sigh.

"C'mon, you heard what she said. Weapons holstered, hands in the air."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard. I just don't like it," he replied, slowly lifting his hands up, palms forward.

She slapped at the undersides of his arms until they were raised high enough for her liking. "Tough shit, man. You want to get shot? Because if I'm not mistaken the guards in those towers have rifles, and they sure look like they know how to use them." She gave him the once-over. "You know what? Let's lose the antlers. You won't be needing them anymore and they're just going to make you look… I dunno… deranged, or something."

He waited patiently while she unlashed the antlers and tucked them into his pack. "Let's get on with it, then," he said flatly.

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, we're gonna make a great first impression here. Let's go."

The pair stepped out of the woods and onto the path. Thus far, the young girl had been true to her word. The road had shown up just like she said it would, and following it had led them to the town. And, just like she said, the town had electricity. Even from here, they could hear the monotone buzz of the electrified fence.

"And let me do the talking. I'm a lot more personable than you," she whispered, garnering a poorly-hidden eyeroll from her companion.

They made their way, side-by-side, down the path to the gates of the town. A few paces after leaving the cover of the woods the guards had taken notice of them, and the twinkling glint of rifle scopes dotted the top of the towers on each side of the gate. She kept her eyes fixed on the guards as they approached, as each side sized the other up.

They had come within twenty yards of the gate when one the guards spoke up. "That's close enough. State your business."

"We're hoping to find a place here to settle down. We've been told to ask for Tommy," the woman said.

"Told? Told by who?" the guard asked.

"A little girl named Ellie. Maybe… five foot three. Red hair. Scar over her right eyebrow?"

The guards shared a look of sincere curiosity. One of them turned to the radio attached to his shoulder and spoke into it in hushed tones. She looked at the man beside her and nodded reassuringly.

"Ten-four," the guard finished his transmission before turning back to the pair. "Alright, you two hold tight. He's on his way down for a chat."

"Sure thing."

Roughly five minutes passed and Tommy still hadn't arrived. She had started idly brushing the snow around with her boots, while the man seemed to be enraptured by the workings of the electrified fence. Finally, with a dull metallic clank, the gate slid open wide enough for a man to step out, and then shut again.

The man must have been in his mid-forties with longish hair tucked under a fur-lined cap, a short-cropped beard, a small jagged scar beneath his left eye, and a denim bomber jacket wrapped over his shoulders. His eyes told a story of horrors seen and losses suffered, but also a sense of hope, and simmering near the surface was a reserved excitement.

He looked between the two strangers and put his hands on his hips. "I'm Tommy. Did I hear right that you said a girl named Ellie told you to ask for me when you got here?"

The woman nodded. "That's right."

"When did you last see her? Was she alright? Was there a man with her?" he asked, eagerness prevalent in his voice.

She looked at her companion reflexually. "Maybe… three days ago?" The man nodded, and she continued. "She was by herself, but we stumbled across the man first. He was a few hours ahead of her, and none too sociable." This conjured a shrug and an understanding nod from Tommy. "He didn't give us any indication of where he was heading. A few hours after we parted with him, we happened across the girl. She was curled up in the snow, shivering something fierce, on the verge of freezing to death, and-"

"Is she okay?" Tommy interjected.

The woman nodded. "Yeah. Better now. I gave her some extra cold weather gear I was hauling around."

Relieve coursed through him. "Thank you."

She smiled. "It was nothing. Anyway, we built a fire and got her warmed up. Then she insisted on taking off after him again. I think she said his name was Joel."

"That's right. My brother."

The woman's eyes widened a bit. "Oh."

Tommy looked back and forth between the two of them again. "You know what? Why don't we head inside?" He stepped back to the gate and struck it twice with the base of his fist. The gate slid open and he welcomed them inside. "You can drop your hands now."

The pair let their hands fall to their sides. "Thanks," she said. "My arms were getting tired."

Tommy chuckled before grabbing his radio. "Maria, come on down to the gate."

"Be right there," a voice crackled through the static over the radio.

"So... why didn't you go after them?" the woman asked after the gate closed behind them. "I mean, forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but if it were my brother and niece, I would have been out there in an instant."

He gave a helpless gesture. "I tried. It just so happened that soon after they had left, there was an Infected attack at the other side of town. By the time we got things sorted out and cleaned up, the trail had gone cold. We knew they went west, but by the time I reached the river, the snow had covered their trail. I had to choose between giving chase in the face of the oncoming winter or staying with my wife, Maria, to watch over town. It wasn't an easy choice, but... I had to stay. Sometimes I still wonder if I made the right choice or not…" His eyes fell to search for answers in the snow.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad we ran into them," she replied. "If it wasn't for Ellie, we might not have found this place. I just hope she was able to catch up to Joel."

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," Tommy said pensively.

Maria arrived a minute later, breathing hard from the long jog down to the gate. Tommy filled her in on all that the strangers had told him, that Joel and Ellie were still alive. A wave of relief rolled over her much like it had over Tommy moments before.

"Thank you," Maria said to the two of them. "They're… they're very dear to us."

"I'm just happy we could be of some help," the woman said.

"Of course," Maria replied, smiling warmly. "So you two are hoping to find a place here." It was a statement more than a question. "Any useful skills?"

"Well, he used to be an engineer… you know, back before," she said, wagging a thumb in her partner's direction. "Me? Uh… I'm a good shot. Actually, we're both pretty good with a gun, and would be more than willing to serve on guard duty. Also got some farming experience."

"Great! We'll find you two a place to live and try to get you some work to do that lines up with your areas of expertise."

"Really?" the woman asked, disbelief and hesitance on her voice.

Maria nodded. "Really."

The woman gave an endeared smile, overcome by the relief that came with assured safety. She turned and embraced the man, a gesture that seemed to catch him off-guard. Eventually, he managed to return the embrace, and she said quietly into his ear, "We're home."

Tommy grinned. "You know, I never caught your names."

* * *

><p>The door slid open, its hinges groaning in protest. The trail of footprints terminated at the door to this house, and Ellie inched inside with anticipation. She checked over the living room before pushing the door open to let Titus inside. He trotted into the room and began sniffing around, tail high in the air.<p>

She went room to room on the main floor, searching for any signs Joel had left behind. A scattering of crumbs next to an empty granola bar wrapper in the kitchen. A freshly disheveled comforter on the couch in the living room. Fresh, yet cold coals in the fireplace and a splintered wooden table.

Titus looked on curiously. "We must have just missed him, boy," Ellie informed. The dog cocked its head in intrigue. "We're getting closer."

Ellie went to the back door and peered through the window. Sure enough, the trail of footprints picked up at the base of the back steps. Before setting out into the cold again, she turned back to the kitchen, deciding to see if Joel had managed to leave any food behind.

The cabinets didn't yield much. A bag full of something that had, at one time, been bread. A pouch of cookies that was sadly empty. The best find had been a box of pasta that Joel, and the bugs, must have missed. It tasted like dusty cardboard and hurt her teeth to chew on, but beggars can't be choosers.

Deeming the house picked clean, she pushed open the back door and set off following the trail. It linked to another house, and again she made her way inside, continuing the same routine. Search for supplies. Look for hints of Joel's whereabouts. Keep moving.

One of the houses along the chain of footprint trails had a full bag of dog food stashed away. Ellie rummaged around for some ziploc bags and brought along as much as she dared carry. At least she could keep Titus satisfied for awhile.

The trail of footprints eventually led to the town's high school. Ellie steadied herself before creeping inside. Her last experience in a high school hadn't been a pleasant one, as they had escaped by the skin of their teeth at the hands of a bloater.

The military preparatory school she had attended in Boston had little in common with the high schools of the world before. From what she had picked up, it seemed like a mix of high school and college, insofar as they had classes and dormitories, but with a heavy dose of authoritarian martial law.

Instead of learning about geography or social studies or mathematics, they spent their days being drilled on how to either take life or save it. The long hours she spent studying under the trained medics in the infirmary had proven as invaluable as the endless drills familiarizing herself with handguns.

The long, echoing halls stretched on before her. The absence of windows to the outside meant light was in scarce supply, and Ellie felt her pulse quicken a few beats. Cautiously, she moved near the wall of lockers and advanced down the hallway. She drew her pistol for both the feeling of security and a measure of caution. The halls were more or less silent, the only sound coming from beneath the soles of her shoes, Titus's panting, and the wind blowing past the door behind her.

_Maybe I should turn around,_ she thought. _Circle the building and find where his footprints exit. This place gives me the fucking creeps._ But before she could make up her mind, four figures strode casually around the corner ahead of her. She froze in her tracks.

* * *

><p>Joel peered out from around the corner in time to see the four figures about to disappear around the far end of the hall. He exhaled deeply and stepped out from the recessed doorway. They had walked right past and not noticed him lurking in the shadows. It was a wonder people that careless and inattentive were still drawing breath.<p>

Wasting little time, he jogged over to the nearest exit and made his way back out into the cold, looking to put as much distance between himself and the group of ragtag survivors. From their conversation, they sounded desperate and on the verge of starvation. Not the kind of people he was willing to get involved with.

The bitter chill that had rolled in the day before still hung heavy in the air, biting at his lungs as he inhaled. He nuzzled down into the scarf, plunged his hands into his pockets, and set off for the next structure that looked suitable for scavenging.

Behind him, he heard four faint pops, and eventually a fifth. The survivors must have run afoul of a pod of Infected. All the better reason for him to have gotten out of there. Revolver drawn, he shoved open the door of the house and stepped inside.

* * *

><p>"Don't move!" she shouted, leveling the pistol at the group.<p>

"Easy, little girl," the group's de facto leader said. "No need for things to get out of hand."

"I agree, so keep your hands where I can fucking see them," she ordered. Titus had begun maintaining a low growl at her side, the hair along his back standing on end.

The leader held up his hands, gesturing to his comrades to do the same. They complied unenthusiastically. It was a haggard crew. Three men and a woman. They looked positively famished, and Ellie had reservations about the way they were eyeing her dog. The leader and the woman each had pistols holstered at their hips. The other two appeared to be unarmed.

"Okay, okay… calm down, little girl, we don't-"

"Call me little girl again and I'll put a bullet between your fucking teeth," she spat.

"Sorry, we're just… we're starving here, okay? Do you… do you have any food?" he asked.

"Not for you."

One of the unarmed men made an irritated sound and Ellie swung her pistol in his direction. He turned to the leader. "This is bullshit, man. That husky would feed us for nearly a week. It's a goddamn kid, let's just fucking take it."

A white-hot burst of rage kindled in her chest, and before she realized what she was doing, she squeezed the trigger. The pistol barked, and the bullet struck the unarmed man in the cheek. He crumpled lifelessly to the ground. The other three looked in shock for a moment at their dead comrade, disbelief plastered on their faces.

"Holy fuck!" the woman yelled, coming to her senses first. "You little bitch, you fucking killed him!"

A switch flipped in Ellie's head, and she found herself descending into a dispassionate state, operating on pure instinctual reflex. All of her actions became mechanical, even automatic, and she found herself in the role of an observer watching from the outside as her body reacted.

The leader and the woman both scrambled for their guns, and Ellie fixed her aim at each one, methodically squeezing the trigger each time the sights hovered over one of their heads. She didn't so much as flinch as the pistol fired. The leader fell, then the woman. Their pistols hadn't even cleared their holsters before they crashed to the ground.

The remaining unarmed man had turned to flee, and Ellie fired off a round into his back. He tumbled to the ground and began crawling away. She walked up behind him casually, and he rolled over onto his back upon hearing her approach.

"No, don't! Please! No, no, no, no!" he cried, holding his hands up in front of his face.

Ellie raised the pistol, glowering at him, and shot him between the eyes. A dark red pool began spreading over the cold linoleum floor. "Fuck you."

Titus hadn't fled, apparently accustomed to the sound of gunfire from his days as a Firefly dog, and came up to stand beside her. She reached down and scratched behind his ear. "It's okay, boy. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Promise." He lifted his snout and licked her hand, which was shaking with anger.

She was coming back into herself as her brain slowly began processing what had just happened. As the cold, emotionless state of consciousness began to subside, she felt as if a blast furnace was raging within her chest and midsection, and a stream of scalding fury had escaped from it to pervade every inch of her body. She realized that she was grinding her teeth together and hot, angry tears were building in her eyes. It was a rage the likes of which she had never experienced, and she found herself startled by her momentary furor.

She had experienced fits of anger before, and the most severe had typically been aimed at Joel, but this was something new. She had never felt such unbridled malice coursing through her being, and the magnitude of it frightened her. She became aware of the deep-seated enmity that had remained relatively concealed up to this point. The only other time she could remember feeling anything remotely like this had been while she was swinging the machete into David's face. The outworkings of pent-up frustration, fear, and animosity had poured forth in an act of unchecked savagery. She felt her entire body begin to tremble in spite of itself.

Titus somehow sensed that something wasn't right, and nudged against her thigh, craning his neck so that her hand rested on his head. She crouched and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly for several minutes until she managed to calm down.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 9**


	9. Chapter 9 - Messages

**A/N: Alright alright alright (you better read that in Matthew McConaughey's voice.) Chapter nine, chapter nine. And the gap between them keeps diminishing. So many near misses! We're definitely starting to see some of the shifts that take place between these two characters, as Joel continues losing control of his mind and Ellie continues losing what's left of her innocence. Joel's influence on her is continuing to become more visible, and she's beginning to emulate him in some ways. But, like some of you said, that's what happens in this hellish world they live in.**

**Um... I don't have much more to say about the chapter. So... read it. Oh, also, if you haven't yet, go check out the blog (the link to it is in my profile.) I've posted an invitation for any questions you might have for me, and I'll answer them granted the answers are spoiler-free. If you don't want to head to the blog to post them, you can post questions here or send me a PM and I'll answer as many as I can. Just trying to engage with you guys!**

**Soundtrack choice for this chapter: I'm gonna try something new here. Different songs for different scenes! For the beginning to the first break (horizontal line), play "All Gone (Alone)" from the soundtrack volume 1. From the first break the next, "All Gone (Outside)" from the soundtrack volume 1. Second break to the end, "The Outbreak" from the soundtrack volume 1. Not sure if this will break up your reading flow, but I thought I'd try something new. Heh. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 9<strong>

**MESSAGES**

Ellie tightened the straps of the holsters, feeling the reassuring weight of the new firearms that hung snugly to her hips. The four dead bodies hadn't yielded anything particularly useful besides the firearms and the half-empty magazines within them. She looked back, shaking her head in disgust at the four corpses lying in their four glistening, claret pools.

Titus trotted on ahead of her, wandering into a bathroom. She followed him inside. "You smell something good in here, boy?"

The bathroom was a decrepit disaster. The floors were covered with shattered porcelain and various other detritus. One of the stalls had been kicked in, and a couple of sinks were missing, explaining the porcelain shards scattered on the floor. Ellie took a few steps further into the bathroom when movement in the corner of her eye made her stop short. She slowly turned her head, then gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fucking mirrors."

She turned to face the cracked mirror and looked at herself. It was the first time in weeks she had been in front of her reflection and had the chance to simply look at her own appearance. A satisfied smirk made its way into the corner of her mouth. The pistols on her hips, combined with the rifle peeking out from over her shoulder, made her look formidable. Perhaps even intimidating. She hoped that people would think twice about talking down to a 'little girl' decked out with such an arsenal.

She pulled the scarf down and the hat back a bit to get a better look at her face. She almost didn't recognize herself. Her freckles were still splattered across her cheeks. The scar bisecting her eyebrow looked the same as ever. But there was something else to her face that gave her pause, something she couldn't put her finger on. She somehow looked… older.

She met her reflection's eyes, and the source of the peculiarity became eminently known. The green of her irises looked different somehow. They were not the eyes of a teenager anymore. They were colder. Weary and distant. She had seen the look before. It was the very same look she had seen in Joel's eyes when she first met him. She held her gaze for another moment before letting her eyes fall, unable to look into what she had become any longer.

She studied the stained porcelain of the sink for a moment, then reached down, picked up a loose chunk from the ground and hurled it as hard as she could into the mirror. The pane shattered, and glittering fragments showered onto the floor, scattering her reflection into a million tiny pieces. She found herself tightly gripping the rim of the sink, threatening to rip it from the wall. Her increasingly erratic temper had made another unwelcome appearance, and she was left with quickened breathing and a soured mood.

She turned away to find Titus giving her a look mired in curiosity and concern. She smiled and crouched. He trotted over and sniffed at her before sloppily licking her face. She giggled and ruffed his fur. She was indescribably grateful for his presence in that moment, and felt her spirits lift slightly.

"At least you still like me, huh?"

She spent the next hour exploring the school, searching for exits that had footprints leading out of them rather than in. She found the point of entry of the four stragglers before finally stumbling across a doorway with a single set of footprints leading away from the school. Ellie looked back over her shoulder. She was at the end of the long hall the four strangers had come from just before their encounter. She pushed open the door and looked closely at the prints. They were still freshly defined.

"Fuck…" she muttered. _Did I really just miss him?_ She whistled sharply. "C'mon, Titus."

She pushed the door the rest of the way open and matched her feet up to Joel's footprints, hopping from one to the next.

* * *

><p>Another empty house. No food, no supplies, no nothing. Joel tossed down the empty coffee can with disgust. This town was as good as useless. He scanned over the kitchen and living room once more before heading to the back door.<p>

She was waiting for him on the way out, leaning idly against the weathered siding, arms crossed over her chest, pushing the snow around with her boots. "Nothing again," she said flatly.

"Nothing again," he confirmed.

"On to the next one."

He sighed, hesitating for a moment. "On to the next one."

She followed him to the next house, electing to follow him inside this time. The windows had been boarded up years ago, and ominous scrawls near the door warned that the inhabitants were armed and would shoot on sight. Joel scoffed, then noticed another symbol near the corner of the doorframe. His eyes lit up when he saw the iconic 'W' carved into the doorframe that marked the house as a 'way station' to those who knew what to look for. He stepped eagerly inside.

The living room looked well lived-in. There were makeshift beds circled around a center point, a place for people to pile any surplus supplies they had come across. He had run across little safehouses like this several times in the years since the outbreak. It was a small hint that some modicum of humanity did still exist out there. Survivors who were passing through would leave excess supplies behind for people who might need them. They'd usually sign one of the walls with their name and give any news updates from wherever they'd come.

Joel turned to the broadest expanse of wall in the living room and, sure enough, it was covered with signatures and small messages. He strode over to it, perusing through the entries. 'Milo was here. Savannah QZ ABANDONED. Gonna give the west coast a shot.' Immediately below that were the words, 'Lost cause, bro. It's all fucked.' Another message read, 'Elizabeth was here. Minneapolis QZ bombed out. Running out of hope.' 'Jared, Mark, Reggie, and Shannon were here. Vegas overrun with Infected. Steer clear!' 'D + R were here. Seattle QZ long gone. Looking for the bastion.'

Joel dragged his gaze over the wall. There had to be four or five dozen similar notes scribbled onto the flaking drywall. Marlene had walked up to read them as well, and bent over to get a better look at one of them.

"Huh. Look at this one," she said, pointing at one of the messages.

He sauntered over and stooped to take a closer look. 'SP4 Lakyn O'Connor, 197th Infantry Brigade was here. Santa Fe QZ probably gone by now. Drifting.' Joel blinked and took a stumbling step backwards.

"What are the chances of that?" she asked.

Merely reading the name was enough to send him spiraling. Since leaving Jackson, he had been consciously hedging against those memories, putting up walls as fast as he could build them to keep thoughts of her out.

"No…" he whispered, tripping over a cushion and toppling onto his back.

She approached him in the dim light, stooping down next to him. "What's wrong?" There was something different to her voice, but it was still familiar. And soft.

"No… no, no, no…" he repeated.

She dipped her head to meet his gaze, and a sliver of light from the window illuminated half of her face, revealing fair skin, hair like fine strands of obsidian, and a single eye the color of the sky on a cloudless winter day. Her gaze was incisive, opening up his chest and heaping ice in to surround his heart.

"Here," she said, reaching out a bloodied hand to help him up, but he just stared at it, unable to move.

She sighed and moved closer to help him to his feet. Upon standing, she turned back to face the message wall, and in the movement the other half of her face became briefly illuminated. The fair skin was obscured by coagulated blood, and a ragged exit wound could be seen near her other eye. He gasped involuntarily. The sight rattled his bones, and he nearly crumpled to the ground again.

"I know. It's ghastly, isn't it? Imagine how I feel," she said listlessly, still facing the wall. He stared at her blankly, stammering for something to say. "There's nothing to say, Joel… just… just save your breath."

"Lakyn, I…"

She spun to face him. "I said there's nothing to say!" she shouted. The sheer volume of her outburst startled him, given that she was always so soft-spoken. He was relegated to hopelessly searching the floor for words once again, and small sobs shook her body as she looked plaintively at him. "Look at me," her voice was soft once again.

"No-"

"Look at me," she repeated firmly, an uncharacteristically demanding tone resonating in her voice. He reluctantly lifted his head to comply. She gestured to her appearance. "This is your fault."

He looked away again, unable to bear the weight of shame and guilt. She was right. He knew she was right. He began shaking his head slowly, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

"This is your fucking fault," the voice said, but it had changed again, and was even more familiar. Out of horrified suspicion, Joel risked a glance. A scowling Ellie stood before him, her body riddled with bullet holes, punctuated by one in her forehead. Her clothing was torn in several places and sodden with blood. He slammed his eyes shut again, incapable of withstanding the sight of her any longer.

_This isn't real,_ he told himself. _She's not here. She's not dead. You're alone in this room. Ellie is fine. She is fine. This is not real._

He opened his eyes to corroborate his thoughts, and found himself alone in the living room. He turned around, checking the shadowy corners to confirm that he was indeed alone, then let out a long exhale.

"Joel, you're losin' your goddamn mind," he said to the room. "Hell, look at you, talkin' to yourself just like dear old Bill."

He turned back to the scant pile of supplies, rooted through it, and made to head for the back door. He stopped when he saw the permanent marker near the floor of the message wall.

He shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

* * *

><p>Ellie picked up the coffee can. Empty. Little wonder, as Joel would have doubtlessly held onto one with grounds still in it. She tossed it aside, listening to its metallic clanking echo off the walls as it came to rest on the floor. Nothing worth taking here.<p>

She pushed the back door open and took up the trail of footprints once again, with Titus trotting jovially along after her. The houses that had dotted the string of footprints hadn't yielded so much as a can of beans, but Ellie pushed on anyway, hoping for at least a small sign of Joel.

The next house was adorned with an ominous warning spray-painted onto the façade next to the door, not unlike the ones she had seen on houses in the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh. She went to the front door and crept inside, moving aside to let the dog in as well.

The living room of the house had been organized into a sort of camp, with cushions positioned on the floor to create makeshift beds. There was a small, scattered pile of supplies at the center of the room, and one of the walls was covered in graffiti. Upon looking closer, she recognized that they were messages left by survivors who had passed through here.

There were dozens upon dozens of signatures and messages scribbled in black marker on the wall, and it reminded Ellie of the messages she and Riley would leave on the walls of their secret passageway to the mall back in the zone. A dull ache rolled through her at the thought, and she quickly drove the emotions back into submission.

Her eyes danced over the messages. There were so many stories here, and from all over the place. There was one from Georgia, another from southern California, and one from as far north as Alberta. The sheer number of them made her eyes glaze over in wonder, and they eventually fell onto a black bar that stood out from the rest. She looked closer, and it appeared as if someone had covered over one of the entries with angry scrawls of black marker.

In skimming over the entries, one name caught her eye immediately. 'Joel was here. Boston QZ still standing.' It gave no indication of his heading, but seeing the name there, plain as day, put to rest any doubts she had that she was on the right trail. She felt bolstered and energized by the discovery and, after briefly checking the supply pile, hurried to the back door.

"C'mon, Titus," she called as she pushed the back door open, "we can't be far behind him now!"

Feeling that he might be just around the next corner, she jogged down the footprint trail. It led into another house, and rather than waste time searching for supplies, she barreled through, hoping to catch up to him quickly.

She popped out of the back door of the house and glanced both ways down the street. Movement several houses away caught her eye. It was him. It was Joel. His back was to her as he was shouldering his way into a house at the end of the street.

She was about to shout his name when she was cut off by a blow to the back of the head that sent her reeling unconsciously into the snow.

* * *

><p>She came to a few moments later to a gnashing growl heard over the sound of frantic cries. She groggily opened her eyes and saw Titus on top of a strange man, thrashing around in the snow. The man was trying to cry out, but made the mistake of craning his neck to do so. Titus, having been trained as a Firefly dog, took the opportunity to rip the man's throat out, cutting off his cries.<p>

The show of viciousness startled Ellie, and it took her a moment to gather herself and assess the situation. She rubbed the back of her head, propped herself onto her elbows, and scanned the area, looking for threats. There were three men running from the opposite end of the street, brandishing pistols and hostile expressions.

"Titus!" Ellie screamed as she scrambled to her feet, making for the edge of one of the houses. The dog leapt off of the man and followed her toward the back of the house. He had just saved her life, and the thought of losing him scared her to death.

She ducked around the corner of the house and shrugged the rifle off of her shoulder. She pulled the bolt back to check the chamber, satisfied by the golden gleam of the rifle round. She threw the bolt forward and stole a glance around the edge of the house. The men were dispersing, situating themselves behind cover and shouting orders to each other. Ellie pulled back and looked down at Titus.

"Let's get these motherfuckers."

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 10**


	10. Chapter 10 - Volatile

**A/N: So hey, we're getting a TLoU movie! I'm tentatively excited simply due to the fact that Neil Druckmann and Bruce Straley are reportedly heavily involved. That at least assures me that it won't be completely butchered. I will continue to retain this tentative excitement until finding out more. I really hope they don't screw it up.**

**I wanted to thank people who sent me some questions here and on my blog (are you following it yet? You should be.) I had a good time answering them, and my roommate who is also writing a novel pitched in on a follow-up guest post covering some of the same topics.**

**Oh, hey... I left the last chapter with a cliffhanger, didn't I? Silly me. I know how much that drives people crazy. I promise never to do that again... hehehehe...**

**Anyways, here's the chapter. It's an intense one, so for soundtrack choice I recommend one of the more intense tracks from either volume of the soundtrack. Something like "Unstable" from volume 2 or "The Hunters" from volume 1. Something in that vein. Alright. Enjoy, and leave a review if you'd like!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 10<strong>

**VOLATILE**

He threw his shoulder into the door a third time, and the rotted wood around the deadbolt finally gave way, splintering into soggy chunks that scattered over the floor. The door swung open, and he stumbled his way inside the house. Its windows, like most others in the neighborhood, had been boarded up years ago, and light filtered in as slotted shafts, providing irregular illumination to the room. The locked door was a promising sign that there might still be a few supplies tucked away somewhere within, and Joel wasted little time to begin his search.

He was rifling through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom when he heard a conspicuous creak from behind him. She pushed the door the rest of the way open and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, noticing her resentful expression before he returned to shaking the various pill containers and tucking the useful ones away. He pushed past her brusquely and headed toward the bedrooms.

He pushed open one of the bedroom doors and his heart lurched in his chest. The room unmistakably belonged to a young girl, probably around Sarah's age at the time she passed. She had the ubiquitous Dawn of the Wolf poster hanging on one of her walls, surrounded by posters of bands the world had long since forgotten. Joel winced when he saw the name 'Halican Drops.' They had been one of Sarah's favorites.

He looked over the room again. If he didn't know any better, this could have been her room. There was an overstuffed beanbag chair in one corner. Family photos were tacked to the wall over her headboard. There was even a soccer ball on the floor near the door.

"What's this, here?" Marlene asked from somewhere behind him.

He turned to find her holding up a greeting card. There was a green dinosaur wearing a party hat adorning the front with the word 'congratulations' beneath its feet. Joel walked over to examine it when there was a commotion somewhere outside. Voices were yelling unintelligibly down at the far end of the street. Had those four stragglers circled back after finding his trail?

He jogged back to the living room and found Marlene staring out the window, peering between the boards and leaning to one side to see down toward the end of the street.

"Can't see much," she said.

Joel began walking toward her to take a look for himself when a stray bullet snuck between the boards, shattered the pane of the bay window, threaded neatly through the bullet hole in Marlene's head, and embedded itself into the far wall. She turned and looked back at the pockmark left by the bullet.

"Huh…"

"Hell with this. Let's get out of here," Joel said as the sound of gunfire continued, staccato pops separated by loud booms of something high-caliber. Marlene followed him to the rear door and out into the backyard. The woods broke against the edge of the backyard like waves upon the shore, and Joel headed for the trees.

* * *

><p>The stock of the rifle kicked into her shoulder like a mule as she fired, and it took putting her full weight behind it to keep from being knocked over. The bullet struck the approaching man in the neck, sending him crumpling into the snow. Ellie pulled back behind the side of the house, reached up and worked the action on the bolt, slotting another round into the chamber. She snuck a quick glance around the corner. Two of the three hunters were still remaining, and another small group was coming from the end of the street where she had seen Joel moments earlier.<p>

She whistled sharply as she turned to circle back around the house, and Titus bounded along behind her. Without the visibility limitations heavy snowfall would have provided, she knew her trail would be easy to follow. She searched the smattering of buildings for one that offered numerous entrances and exits where she'd have the opportunity to either escape or double back behind her attackers.

The sounds of shouts and clumsy commotion echoed off the walls of buildings behind her, and she ducked into the biggest building she could find, what looked like a hotel. Looking back, she saw her footprints leading into the building, but there were hallways branching off of the foyer, giving several directions she could turn upon entering. The men would either split up, making it easier to take each one out separately and quietly, or they would all search together in a group, making it easier to give them the slip.

She looked around the foyer of the building, picked a direction, and tore off down one of the hallways. Several rooms passed her as she went, and she made it halfway down the hall before coming across one with blown-out windows where she could escape to the outside if need be. She darted inside, beckoning Titus to follow, and waited.

It didn't take long for voices to filter through the hall from the foyer. "Alright, that little bitch could be anywhere in here. Don't fucking underestimate her, or her dog. The two of them already killed Derek and Greg, and if you aren't fucking careful you'll be joining them on the other side. They're fucking dangerous. Let's split up. You and you, there. You, there. You, with me. Watch your backs."

Ellie tensed as she listened to the sounds of approaching footsteps. The men began checking the rooms. There was no telling whether there were one or two down the hall, and she hoped against hope that the one approaching was alone.

"Anything?" a voice called from the end of the hall.

"Not yet," a second one replied, considerably closer than the first.

She flicked open her switchblade and pressed herself against the wall behind the door, waiting for the shape of a man to pass into the room. The wait was agonizing, and she held onto Titus's collar to keep him from giving away their position. Over a minute later, the awaited shadow of a man appeared in the doorway.

He took a couple of wary steps into the room, and Ellie wasted no time to make her move. She sprung from the shadows behind the door, leaping onto the man's back and burying her switchblade to the hilt in the man's temple. The attack was so sudden and effective that the man made no sound as he crumpled to the musty carpet.

"Oh shit!" a voice yelled from just outside the door. "She's in here! She's in here!"

_Fucking fuck_, she thought to herself as she scrambled behind the door again. The previously unseen man rushed into the room, hoping to press his advantage, but Ellie was ready. She threw her weight into the door, slamming it into the man as he passed through, sending him sprawling to the carpet.

She scrambled over to the man and plunged the switchblade into his side. He lurched in pain and drove an elbow into the side of her head. The blow sent her reeling, and the man rolled to his hands and knees, crawling after her. He landed a thunderous blow to her midsection, causing her to yelp involuntarily and keel over into the fetal position. He was recoiling to strike again when Titus came to her aid, locking his jaws down on the man's shoulder and shaking vigorously, tearing the man's flesh. The hunter struggled against the dog as it climbed on top of him, and Ellie saw the bright flash of a blade appear at his side.

"No!" she cried as she threw herself at him, pushing Titus out of harm's way. Another volatile boil of anger burst within her, and she lost control. She drove the switchblade into the man's neck, then slashed it laterally with all of her strength. A spray of blood precluded the hunter's cries for help. She withdrew the blade and stabbed him again and again, screaming in fury, feverishly searching out new avenues to drive the blade into until the man stopped moving. His head made a dull thud as it hit the carpet.

Ellie rolled off of him and cringed as a stab of pain shot through her side. She looked down and saw the hunter's knife lying on the floor, stained and dripping red. She looked frantically for Titus, but found him standing nearby, alert and unblemished. She moved again and felt the sharp bite at her side once more. Her hand instinctively shot to the source of the pain, and upon pulling it away she saw her glove glistening with blood.

"Ah… ah… fuck…" she muttered, wincing at the pain.

The sound of running footsteps came from the hall, and Ellie reacted quickly. Fighting back the pain, she pulled the new pistols from their holsters and brandished each of them toward the door, ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement. The pistols dwarfed and undoubtedly packed more punch than the .32 in her waistband, and she braced herself for the recoil. Still lying on her back, with the pistols trained on the door, she waited.

The first man spun around the corner, apparently throwing caution to the wind. She squeezed the trigger on the pistol in her right hand, and the concurrent jolt through her forearm nearly knocked it from her grasp. Her ears were left ringing from the deafening boom. The bullet hit the man square in the chest, knocking him off of his feet into a sputtering pile on the floor.

The second man was a couple steps behind the first, and hadn't learned the lesson of his predecessor. The pistol in her left hand barked, putting a hole through the man's shoulder. He staggered, thrown off balance from the blow, and crashed to the ground at her feet. She leveled the pistol and fired a round into the top of his head.

There had to be more men not far behind. Ellie clambered up, stumbling at the pain coming from her side, and made for the window. She threw herself over the edge and Titus hopped over after her. She hit the cold snow, sending up a puff of powder around her. She struggled to her feet and began running as well as she could away from the building.

She turned around the corner of a nearby house and planted her back against the siding, holstering the pistols. She unslung the rifle from her back, quickly double-checked the chamber, and swung it around, pointing it at the room she had just escaped from. It took considerable effort to keep her breaths steady in light of the blossoming pain coming from the knife wound. The dark figure of a man appeared in the open window at the end of the iron sights of the rifle, and Ellie pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked, and a splash of blood on the back wall took the place of the dark figure.

Ellie loaded another round into the chamber and waited, sights still fixed on the window of the building. Several minutes passed, but no more men appeared. Her heart was beating rapidly, quickening the amount of blood she was losing through the wound.

"Is that it, Titus?" she absently asked him. "Did we get all those fuckers?"

Titus looked up at her, somehow conveying an attitude of concern. She looked down at her side. There was a wide swath of sodden fabric trailing from the wound down to the side of her pant leg. Ellie checked the building again, deeming it more or less clear, and headed for the nearest house to patch herself up.

She made for the bathroom, hoping she could use a mirror to better inspect her injury. She fished a bottle of alcohol out of her backpack and grabbed the cleanest rag she could find in the house. She removed her coat and layers of sweaters before pulling up the side of her shirt. In her reflection, the knife wound formed a dark slit against her light skin, seeping with a steady trickle of blood. She felt around the wound, and quickly realized how incredibly lucky she had been. The stab was fairly shallow, the knife wound equivalent to being winged with a bullet.

Her mouth went dry as the adrenaline that came with tending one's own wounds began coursing through her veins. With shaking hands, she held the rag just below the cut to catch the alcohol as she poured it slowly over the wound. Small cries and gasps slipped out at the sting but she quickly stifled them, and they resorted to escaping through her nose. Gritting her teeth, she cleaned the gash as best she could before tying the rag snugly around her midsection, giving constant pressure to staunch the bleeding.

The whole ordeal had left her exhausted, weak, and shaky. She pulled out the box of pasta and gnawed on a few pieces, dumping a small pile on the ground for Titus as well. She sat down on the edge of the bed in the next room, taking several deep, pained breaths, testing how much she'd be hampered by the wound. She let herself lie back on the mattress and dozed off for awhile before deciding to keep pushing on. Upon pulling away the rag, she saw that the bleeding from her side had nearly stopped.

Ellie came to her feet. The crash of coming down from the adrenaline high left her with unsteady legs, but she had no choice. She had to catch up to Joel. She left the house and retraced her steps, avoiding the hotel she had passed through, and finally came upon where she had briefly seen Joel. She headed down the street, following his footprint trail to the house he had been forcing his way into.

The house was empty, but the back door yielded another trail of prints leading off into the woods. Joel had probably hoofed it upon hearing the gunfire down the street. She adjusted her backpack and weapons before setting off toward the woods, determined to catch up to him before nightfall.

The altercation with the hunters had put some distance between her and Joel. Judging by the position of the sun, it was probably late afternoon, meaning that she had probably dozed off for at least an hour after dressing the wound. Add in the time it had taken to kill off the hunters, and Joel would be miles ahead by now.

The trunks of trees passed by as she entered the woods, undeterred by the dwindling hours of daylight that remained. She kept her eyes trained on Joel's trail and fell into somewhat of a waking trance, pulled out of it from time to time by an awkward step that pulled against the stab wound. Before long, Titus elected to lead the way, following the footprint trail diligently. Ellie appreciated his leadership, as it gave her something to follow without paying much attention. This saved mental energy, but her mind wandered as a side-effect. She actually found herself thanking the wound for occasionally pulling her out of her darker thoughts.

Titus led her up the spine of a slope, seeking out Joel's trail. She shook away her daydreams and focused on the path ahead, given the presence of a sheer drop to her left. She watched as miniature avalanches cascaded down the hill. _That'll be you if you aren't care-_

The earth beneath her left foot gave way and she flailed to regain her balance, but she had no ground to stand upon. Before she realized what was happening, the world became a tumbling blur of light and dark and cold. The fall seemed to stretch on forever as she fell end-over-end. The pain that began emanating from her side was incredible. She clenched her teeth and held on tight, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

At the nadir of her descent, she struck something that felt remarkably out of place given the surroundings. It was dense and coarse. And soft. And warm. Ellie bounced off of the mysterious object and finally came to rest, gasping and moaning in agony.

It took her a moment to regain her bearings. She was facedown in the snow, and picked up her head to look around. Though her sight was severely blurred, she could make out a massive brown mass that nearly filled her entire field of vision. Then, the mass began to slowly undulate, as if waking from a deep sleep. A deep, spine-shaking rumble resonated from somewhere within the mass.

Ellie's eyes went wide upon realization, and she scrambled away on her elbows. "Oh fuck…"

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 11**


	11. Chapter 11 - Impact

**A/N: I don't want to say too much about this chapter besides the fact that the first half of it was really entertaining to write. And that's all I'm going to say about the chapter.**

**In other news, go check out the blog (link in my profile.) I revealed a project that I'm working on for the Aftermath series, something that I'm pretty excited about. It will provide readers with an enhanced way to experience the story. I won't go into detail as to what that means until more is set in stone, but I'm pretty pumped up about it.**

**Anyways, here's the chapter. Read, enjoy, and if you feel like it, leave a review!**

**Soundtrack choice for the chapter: First half of chapter - "Infected" from TLoU Soundtrack vol. 1 (or sub in another intense track.) Second half of chapter - "Left Behind" from the soundtrack vol. 2. WARNING: Massive emotions may result when paired with the reading.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 11<strong>

**IMPACT**

Ellie clawed desperately against the snow, but the powder was too deep to allow for a quick getaway. She was relegated to scuttling backwards in a clumsy backstroke motion as the brown mass continued to swell. It stood up on four trunk-like legs, tipped by paws that were broader than her chest. It slowly came about, turning to face her, its tapered snout protruding from its enormous dish-like face.

A new breed of terror consumed her. She had dealt with Infected before. Runners, clickers, stalkers and even bloaters had all fallen by her hand. But this was something else entirely. She was in strange territory. She had only ever seen a bear in faded photographs, and had no idea how aggressive they were toward humans.

She reached for the weighty pistols in their holsters, but her hands came up empty. They must have fallen out during the tumble down the hill. The .32 was still tucked in her waistband, and she snatched it quickly. _How is that thing so fucking huge?_ she thought. The idea of firing her pistol at it seemed like it would be as effective as firing a BB gun at a locomotive.

The grizzly shook itself and stood to its full height, its towering frame looming over Ellie in such a way that all that came to her mind were the skyscrapers in Boston. She resumed her flailing retreat as the bear returned to all fours, bellowing a mighty roar directly at her.

It was an incredible sound, completely unlike any she had ever heard. Gunshots were deafening, leaving your ears ringing for hours. But this was a sound that she didn't so much hear as feel. She felt it deep in her chest as her heart rattled against her ribcage. The sound made her freeze, paralyzed by fear. The bear snarled, its black lips curling back over teeth like ivory knives.

_This is it,_ she thought. _This is how I die. Not from Infected, but a fucking bear._ The bear began lumbering toward her, and with no other options she lifted the .32 and squeezed the trigger several times in rapid succession. The bullets found their target, but only served to anger the creature, and it let out another fierce bellow as it approached. Ellie screamed.

A blur of grey appeared, positioning itself between her and the bear. It was Titus. He assumed a defensive stance, his hair bristling on end, making himself appear as big and intimidating as possible. He barked sharply, snapping his jaws and baring his teeth at the grizzly. It halted its approach, apparently reconsidering whether it wanted to tangle with a ferocious dog.

The two animals stood a few strides apart, standing their ground, neither conceding an inch. The bear feigned a step toward him, and Titus took a small jump forward, barking viciously again, causing it to take a step backward instead.

Ellie was struggling to swing the rifle around, hoping its higher caliber would prove more useful against the beast, but it was tangled over her shoulder and half-buried in the snow. She looked back at the two animals facing off. Titus darted forward and snapped at the bear, catching it on the bridge of its snout. The bear growled and swung a paw at the dog, knocking it aside into a nearby drift.

"Titus!" Ellie yelled, suddenly consumed by the greater fear of losing her dog.

He recovered quickly, springing out of the snow and repositioning himself between Ellie and the agitated grizzly. The bear remained lethargic in its freshly awoken state, and Titus used this to his advantage. It took a swing at him again, but he dodged it and attacked its face once more, catching the tip of its nose in his jaws. The bear gave a deep moan of pain and shook the dog off. Titus backpedaled and positioned himself in front of Ellie once again, snarling protectively.

The bear hunkered down, lowering itself for a charge, when another sound came filtering through the trees. Ellie felt her face go pale, but all she could do was watch as she attempted to scamper away through the deep snow. The confrontation had raised quite a commotion, drawing attention from the woods around them. The foliage to the left of the bear started quivering before figures began crashing through.

The blooming, fan-like fungal growths appeared first, then the tortured body as the first clicker spilled into the clearing in search of the source of noise. The bear turned, grunting indignantly at the new arrival. Undeterred and attracted by the sound, the clicker lunged for the bear, raking at it with flailing arms. Then a second showed up. Then a third.

Ellie continued backing away, having put fifteen yards between herself and the bear. She called for Titus and he obediently heeded. She watched in awe as the bear tore into the clickers that were desperately trying to bite through its dense layer of fur. A fourth had joined the fray, and all had fallen on the grizzly, thrashing and snapping at it haplessly. The bear's great paws swatted the Infected aside, tearing flesh and breaking limbs in the process.

She snapped out of her amazement when she realized that whoever won this fight had the right to move on to her next. She turned her back on the scuffle just as the grizzly locked its jaws onto the snapping face of another clicker. She called for Titus to follow and they ran, clumsily and feebly, through the deep snow. Somewhere behind her, the bear roared again, but this time its roar was followed by another.

She couldn't help but look back. The bear had finished off the last clicker when a hulking figure stumbled into the clearing. It was covered with bulbous, heaving fungal plates and countless luminescent spore sacs. The bear reared up on its hind legs. It had to be at least ten feet tall. The bloater bellowed and lumbered toward the bear, wrapping its arms around it in an attempt to bring it to the ground.

The collision knocked the bear back to all fours as the bloater swung around its back, reaching its hands up to clutch the grizzly by the jaws. Ellie watched, awestruck, as it tried fruitlessly to rip the animal's jaw out, but the bear was too strong. It spun and threw a shoulder into the bloater, knocking it to the ground.

The bloater struggled back to its feet, returning upright just as the grizzly swung a paw into its face. Ellie saw a puff of spores as one of the sacs was punctured, and a large fungal plate broke free from the monster's head, spinning away into a nearby drift. It howled in agony and went on the attack, clubbing the bear with its massive hands.

The clash of the titans continued for a surprising amount of time before the bear finally managed to lock its jaws on the bloater's throat and rip out its esophagus. The behemoth fell twitching into the snow, and the bear lifted its head, revealing its knife-like teeth, now dripping with blood. Ellie snapped out of her mystified stupor and turned to run once again, hoping the bear wouldn't follow. She ran until her legs gave out.

* * *

><p>He flopped down onto the dusty couch next to his pack and stretched out his legs. Long, cold days of trudging through deep snow had a way of leaching energy from one's body, and Joel let out an extensive sigh as he sunk down into the old cushion. The living room was spacious and not unlike the one from his own house back in Texas. There was a coffee table in front of the couch, and a TV projecting a grimey reflection back at him a little ways beyond that. At the far end of the room, the staircase hugged the corner and led to the second floor.<p>

There wasn't much to this town, if it could even be called such a thing. It was just a gathering of a couple buildings and houses in the middle of the woods, with a road running between them. There were fresh prints leading between some of the buildings, but they eventually led out of the town. A few stray bodies of slain Infected were spread here and there, as well. He had checked all of the buildings in town, just to be safe, and hadn't found a sign of living inhabitants anywhere.

Marlene was sauntering around the living room, looking at the picture frames and heirlooms of a family the world had long since forgotten. She pushed around some of the magazines on the coffee table, then walked over to the mantle. She picked up a picture frame that portrayed the family in front of the Grand Canyon.

"You ever have a place like this?" she asked, gesturing to the living room. He glared at her incredulously. She took note and assumed a defensive tone. "What?"

"You know damn well. You're in my goddamn head."

"Well _excuse_ me, I was just making conversation," she replied before haphazardly clattering the frame back onto the mantle.

"Well, pick another topic."

Her brow furrowed. "Sensitive area here, huh?" He glared at her flatly again, and she held her arms up in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright…"

She walked past him between the couch and coffee table, and once she had moved past, his eyes darted to the staircase. He jumped involuntarily, causing Marlene to spin and follow his line of sight.

"Who are you talking to?" a small voice from the staircase asked.

The voice belonged to a little girl, no older than ten years old, with long, filthy blond hair and tattered winter clothing. She was hugging her knees to her chest halfway up the staircase, leaning back against the wall.

"No one," Joel responded tentatively. He examined the little girl, uncertain as to whether or not she was indeed real. "Who are you?"

"Sally," she replied matter-of-factly.

Joel sighed. The last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment was a little girl. "Okay, Sally… what are you doin' here? Are you alone?" She nodded. "Why are you by yourself?"

"I got left behind."

"By who?"

"My family."

Concern crept onto Joel's face, followed by a twinge of sorrow. "How did you get left behind? They forget you, or something?"

Sally shook her head. "No. They left me behind on purpose."

Joel's heart fell to the pit of his stomach. There were few reasons a family would leave a child behind, none of them good. "On account of what?"

The little girl rose to her feet and crept down the stairs out of the shadows. She stood before him in the living room and pulled aside the collar of her jacket, revealing a ragged bite mark caked in fresh blood. White blotches of fungus were already appearing around the teeth marks. Joel looked at her and let out a long, pained breath. Seeing her in the light revealed spatters of blood on her cheek, a tear in her jacket, and red-stained hands. He looked into Sally's eyes and saw a look of resignation and acceptance, a look that had no business being on a ten-year-old girl's face.

"God…" he muttered under his breath. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Maybe an hour ago? I guess they couldn't bear to kill me themselves, so they just left me behind. Didn't even leave me a gun. Couldn't spare one. They were… they were crying as they shut the door."

Joel felt the heat of approaching tears behind his eyes and quickly blinked it away. He ran a hand over his beard before rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I was just gonna sit here and wait for… you know… but…I'd..." she kicked at something invisible on the floor before muttering, "I'd rather not turn into one of those mushroom people."

"Well, this should be familiar territory for you," Marlene interjected.

Joel ignored her. "Yeah…"

Sally was silent for a long moment. "I don't want to die," she said somberly, betraying the look of resignation on her face.

"Goddammit," he whispered, rising from his seat and looking away from the girl. He walked into the kitchen and put his hands on his hips, eyes staring at something miles away. A swell of anger flared up in his stomach. How many times would he have to keep dealing with the deaths of little girls? It wasn't like he could just leave Sally to turn. The unfairness of this situation, on both sides, was infuriating.

"So what's the plan?" Marlene asked from across the counter.

"What choice do I have?"

She shrugged. Joel met her gaze and held it, looking to glean any degree of confirmation that he was doing the right thing. He gave an exasperated sigh and headed back to the next room. Sally was standing at the window, staring out into the snow. He cleared his throat and she turned to face him.

"Listen, uh…" he began before faltering as he searched for the right words to say. "I'm, uh… I can… help you out with your situation. You won't have to turn into one of those things." He pulled his 9mm and gestured with it.

She gave a small, sad smile. "Thanks." She stared at the gun for over a minute before speaking again. "Can… can we just wait as long as possible? I don't want to waste any of the time I have left."

Joel gave a grin that he hoped came across as reassuring. "Sure." He took a seat on the couch and gestured for her to join him.

She sat down before pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging her knees as she had on the staircase. She rested her chin between her kneecaps and stared at the coffee table. Joel sat beside her quietly, unsure of how to offer any comfort. He looked at her face as she stared at the coffee table. It was the distant, surrendered gaze of someone who is waiting to die.

"So… where are you from?" he asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"Portland," she replied, eyes still fixed on the coffee table. "You?"

"Texas. Had been livin' in Boston for awhile after the outbreak but, uh… something dragged me out west."

Sally nodded as if she understood. "After the Portland QZ fell, my family had been drifting from place to place, looking for anywhere that could offer some sense of security. My mom had me while they were on the road. I was lucky to have survived at all, let alone this long."

"So what happened? How did you get bit, I mean."

"We were checking the buildings here when Infected showed up out of nowhere behind us. One of them grabbed me and bit me, and that's that."

Joel nodded and joined her in staring at the coffee table. "How old are you?"

"Twelve."

_Of course she's twelve,_ Joel thought to himself. It was the same age as Sarah when she died. He turned to look at her, and saw a bit of Sarah in her. She was well-spoken for being only twelve, and though she didn't look a day over ten, she carried herself like someone beyond her years.

"How about you?" she asked.

Joel ran the numbers in his head. "If I'm not mistaken, I should be turning the big five-oh this year."

"Congrats!" she chirped.

"Thank you."

"So how about your family? Where are they?"

"They're, uh… they've been gone a long time."

Sally noticed his eyes glaze over a bit, mired in dark and painful thoughts. She reached out a tiny hand and placed it on his arm. "I'm sorry…" she hesitated, "uh, I guess I never got your name."

"Joel."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said as she cordially extended a hand in his direction. He took her hand and shook it eagerly. "So… where are you headed?"

"West. Don't really got a destination in mind. I'm just, uh..." he trailed off.

"Running from something."

He turned to look at her to find her staring at him thoughtfully. "I guess… in a manner of speakin', yeah."

"Who are you running from?"

Her perceptiveness was uncanny. "It's, uh… it's a long story."

"I've still got some time, I think," she said, pulling aside the collar and looking at the bite. "I still feel more or less normal. Little feverish, maybe."

"I'd… I'm not sure it's a story I want to tell."

"Oh," she said. She looked at him for another long moment. "Okay."

"Sorry, it's just… some wounds take a long time to heal before you can bear to happen across them again. This is one such wound."

"No, it's okay. I understand."

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a long time. Joel began zoning out, absently running his fingers over the broken watch face on his wrist. Sally had taken to picking at the torn fabric around the holes in her jeans.

After another half hour, Sally's condition started to deteriorate. Her forehead glistened with a persistent sweat that returned as quickly as she could wipe it away. She developed a hoarse cough and an unsettling wheezing. Her limbs had begun shaking profusely.

"Okay, I think we're coming closer to that time," she said casually as she wiped her forehead again.

Joel was astonished at how well she was handling herself. "You just let me know when you're ready, okay?"

She nodded and sniffled. "I think maybe we should just get it over with." She let go of her knees and let them drop to the floor.

"How…" he faltered again, brokenhearted to be having this conversation at all. "How do you want to do this?"

She looked at her stained hands for a moment. "I don't know. I just…" her composure cracked a bit, and a tear began tracing a path from her left eye to the tip of her chin. "I don't want to die alone."

Joel's heart went out to her, and he put an arm over her shoulder to provide some comfort. He felt her diaphragm tremble at the contact and she began to weep softly. This girl was a complete stranger to him, but he couldn't help but feel like he knew her in some way. She reminded him so much of the other two little girls he cared about, and when she climbed into his lap to embrace him, he didn't protest.

He held her for a few minutes, feeling her rapid heartbeat and wheezing breaths. "You ready?" He felt her nod against his shoulder. "Alright." Her face was resting on his left shoulder, turned away from him. He brought the pistol up with his right hand and pressed it to the back of her head. She was trying to keep it together, but only half-succeeding.

"Joel?"

"Yeah?"

She sniffled again. "Thank you."

He closed his eyes and felt the tears drop from them. He nodded, braced for the gunshot, and pulled the trigger.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 12**


	12. Chapter 12 - Abandon

**A/N: Alright, here's the next chapter. Yeah, sorry about that whole cliffhanger thing. I lied. It happens. It probably won't be the last time I lie. Fair warning.**

**I don't have terribly much to say about this chapter. Just read it. I also don't have a soundtrack choice picked out for it. Yeah, I'm really slacking these days.**

**Most useless author's note ever award goes to... this one.**

**Oh, still haven't decided if this will go 15 chapters or 20. I know what you're thinking... how could it end at 15? Well... start speculating. That always turns out well. Heh.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 12<strong>

**ABANDON**

"She didn't have to die."

Sally's lifeless body hung limply in his arms. Joel hadn't moved from his place on the couch for the last hour. Every fiber of his being had started to tingle until he was saturated by a consuming numbness. He lost track of how long he had been staring blankly at the clouded reflection in the television screen. The sorrow he had felt for the little girl had melted away into an emotional nothingness. Marlene stood before him, arms crossed over her chest, giving him her best disgusted look, punctuated by the glaring bullet hole in her forehead.

"She didn't have to die," she repeated, but her words had no affect on him. "You could have prevented this if you had just done the right thing. Do you really think this is the last little girl that's going to die because of your selfishness? News flash, Joel: this happens every goddamn day. And you could have put an end to it."

He shook away the cloud that had gathered over his mind. He stood, carefully cradling Sally's body against his own, and walked to the staircase, pushing past Marlene on the way. He turned down the hall at the top of the stairs and went into one of the bedrooms. He carefully lowered her body onto one of the beds, crossing her arms ceremonially over her chest.

He stood at the foot of the bed looking at the little girl's body for a long time before eventually heading back to the first floor. Marlene was there to meet him, and went right back to her badgering.

"Do you even realize how much blood is on your hands? It's not just the hundreds that you've killed yourself. It's not just that little girl's. Anyone who's been infected since Salt Lake City… their lives are on you, Joel."

He pointedly ignored her, focusing on clearing his burdened mind. He shut his eyes and embraced the numbing blankness that began cascading over him. He let himself sink into a dispassionate state, becoming like a stone. This was the only way to survive anymore. Shut the world out. Shut the emotions out. One's humanity was a small price to pay for survival and the retention of sanity.

Marlene's voice faded away until only silence met his ears. He opened his eyes and found himself alone in the living room. In that moment, he felt true solitude for the first time in months. Ever since leaving Jackson, the harrowing presence of his subconscious had manifested itself around him. But now, he was truly alone. This was the way to survive. This was the way it had to be. Cold. Emotionless. Alone.

The past was dead. Sarah was dead. Tess was dead. Lakyn was dead. Ellie was gone. There was no sense in revisiting those memories. _Once upon a time, I had somebody that I cared about. A partner… somebody I had to look after, and in this world that sort of shit's good for one thing: gettin' ya killed. So y'know what I did? I wisened the fuck up, and I realized it's gotta be just me._ Bill had been right all along. It was time to stop dwelling on the past. He had to let her go.

Joel steeled himself, threw on his pack, and pushed the door open to a cold blast of air. The rush of arctic wind over his face was refreshing, further cleansing his mind. He breathed deep, relishing the prickling icy sensation in his lungs. _It's gotta be just me._

He turned himself west and pushed on into the forest, leaving the past behind.

* * *

><p>Ellie lie panting in the snow, trying to catch her breath. Her legs had given out beside a creek, and she had collapsed onto the base of a tree leaning over the frozen water. Her side was burning from the exertion, and she opened her coat to check the wound. The rag was soaked with fresh blood, and she added a handful of snow over the wound before re-tying it, trying to numb the pain.<p>

As far as she could tell, they had either lost the bear or it hadn't elected to chase after them. The only problem was that there was no telling what had become of Joel's trail. She had just picked a direction and ran without giving mind to keeping his trail nearby. Finding it again would undoubtedly be a challenge. The upside was that it wasn't snowing, so the trail would remain visible for some time.

Titus was a little ways off, rooting through some vegetation that the snow hadn't fully covered. She watched him fondly as he searched about, chomping down on a bit of snow to quench his thirst. She let him wander for awhile as she regained her wind.

She had to find Joel's trail by sundown. Snow could fall at any time, covering it forever, if the wind hadn't blown drifts over it first. If she didn't find it before nightfall, there was no guarantee she'd find it again. She scanned over the area, using the position of the sun to estimate which direction was west. To her rough estimate, she had fled the bear in a southwest direction, so following the creek north should, in theory, meet up with Joel's trail.

She struggled to her feet, placing a hand to her side as she did, and whistled for Titus. He trotted over and looked up at her with his lolling grin.

"C'mon, boy."

They turned and followed the creek northward, making sure to stay off of the ice, as there was no telling how thick it was. After her close call with Joel the winter before, the thought of crossing another frozen stream was terrifying. She knew that if she didn't come across a bridge she'd have to cross it eventually, but finding Joel's trail came first.

She walked north, stumbling through the deep snow along the banks, for what felt like hours. Her mind drifted to Joel as she walked. She still couldn't comprehend what made Joel abandon her. It just didn't make sense. He'd lost people before. What made this time different? Was Tommy wrong when he told her that Joel loved her? What kind of person just abandons someone they love?

A myriad of questions ran through her mind, and she was so enraptured in them that Joel's footprints caught her by surprise. She broke free from her thoughts to find herself standing in a pair of deep indentations caused by his boots. She followed the trail with her eyes and, sure enough, it led across the frozen creek.

She stepped lightly down to the edge of the snow-covered ice. If the ice could support Joel, it should support her. She took a few deep breaths, braced herself, and ran across, determined to be on the ice for as little time as possible. She crossed the creek in a matter of seconds with no hint of cracking ice. She breathed easier on the opposite shore, though the exertion pained her side again.

She gritted her teeth and pressed on, following the trail to the outskirts of a small town. It wasn't so much a town as a gathering of a few buildings in a small clearing in the woods. A single road stretched through the buildings, its position marked by long, thin voids in the trees at either end of town.

Joel's footprints led into one of the buildings, and Ellie committed it to memory before pushing to the middle of town. There were more sets of prints here, erratic and hard to follow, but she traced them to a space between buildings where several bodies of Infected tainted the snow.

She went back to the building Joel had entered and began following his trail. She retraced it as it led to every building in the town. He was thorough, after all. Finally, she came to the last house on the trail of prints. She checked the back door and, as expected, a single trail of prints led into the forest.

Daylight was beginning to fade, and this seemed as good a place as any to spend the night. She turned away from the back door and headed back to the living room. It was then that she noticed the peculiar spatter on the ground next to the couch. Upon inspection, it appeared to be blood, a lot of it, and rather fresh blood at that. She followed the direction of the spray and found a single pockmark near the baseboard on the wall. She picked away at the crumbling plaster to find the deformed hunk of metal that had once been a bullet.

She looked around, but found no signs of a body. There was a single 9mm casing on the ground, but besides that, nothing. The oddity drifted to the back of her mind as she wandered to the kitchen, looking for any food that might be tucked away at the back of the cabinets.

They yielded nothing but dishes and spoiled food, and Ellie slammed them shut in frustration. She rummaged through the drawers and couldn't believe her eyes when they fell upon a can opener. It was rusted in a couple spots, but was the type that had no moving parts to go bad. It would prove much better than the primitive switchblade-and-rock combination she had been using.

She returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch before pulling out the box of pasta and crunching away at a few pieces. She couldn't understand the appeal of this stuff. It was hard and tasteless. She found herself perusing the label while she ate and then became suddenly embarrassed.

"Oh, fuck me," she said aloud, causing Titus's ears to perk up in curiosity. "Apparently, you're supposed to boil this stuff before you eat it, Titus. Pfffft. My bad." He cocked his head, not understanding her frustration.

She put the box back in her backpack and her hand grazed the can she had picked up in the cabin outside of Jackson. She picked it up and read the label. 'Smith's Cherry Pie Filling.' Heartache coursed through her as she thought of that cabin. She had never seen Joel in such a state of shock.

She quickly suppressed those thoughts and, on cue, a rumble came from her stomach. Joel had said whatever was in here was sweet. She punctured the can with the new opener and dabbed a finger on the red syrup that seeped out. She brought it to her lips and touched the dab to her tongue. The taste was sublime, and she was instantly salivating for more.

Before she knew it, she had wolfed down half of the can. She forced herself to stop before she'd make herself sick, and went to the kitchen to find something in which to store the rest of the pie filling. She put the tupperware container in her backpack and dragged herself upstairs in search of a bed to sleep in.

She turned into the first room and went to set her backpack down on the end of the bed when she realized that she wasn't alone. She jumped a couple of feet upon realizing that there was a figure lying on the mattress.

"Ah, fuck! Dammit!"

She shook her limbs to rid herself of the burst of adrenaline and anxiety. She looked at the body again. It was a young girl, probably a couple years her junior. There was a grisly exit wound in her forehead, and the bedding around her head was stained to form a dark red halo. Something near the girl's neck caught her eye, and she leaned in to examine it. She pulled aside the collar and found a bite mark dotted with white, patchy growths indicative of an Infected bite.

"Shit…"

Slowly, she put the pieces together, and the heartache returned. Joel must have stumbled across this girl who had recently been bitten, and had been forced to put her out of her misery. She could only imagine how difficult that must have been. Ellie had only seen Sarah in pictures, but this girl resembled her more than she did.

"Oh, Joel… I'm so sorry," she said softly. "Where are you?"

She picked up her backpack and headed to another room, ensuring it was unoccupied before stepping inside. The bed was expansive, probably one of the largest Ellie had ever seen. A bed the size a king would demand. She sat down on the edge of the dusty mattress and Titus walked up to sit at her feet.

She smiled and scratched him around the neck. He licked her hands in return. "Oh, Titus. I'm not sure how I'd get by without you to cheer me up."

She headed down the hall and into the bathroom, cleaned the wound again and wrapped it with a clean rag. She returned to the bedroom and climbed upon the vast mattress. Even while lying on her back, stretching her limbs to their limits, she didn't come within a foot of the edge on either side. Titus hopped up next to her and curled into a ball. She wrapped herself around him and buried her face in his fur, soaking in every degree of warmth she could. Before long, she had succumbed to her heavy eyelids and drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>The firelight flickered against the walls of the cabin. Everything was silent and still. Glowing particles that were either sparks, spores, or fireflies hung heavy in the air. The door of the woodstove hung open and a smoldering log had been dropped on the floor, scorching the rug to the point of ignition.<p>

She was too late.

The cabin was empty aside from the two bodies. The one was lying at the other's feet in a pool of her own blood. Somehow, even in the dim light, the bullet hole was visible in the back of her head. The other body was slumped against the wall, beaten to hell, with a bullet hole in his temple. The rug finally caught, and a blaze began to spread from the foot of the woodstove.

She was too late.

She ran over and shook the body, but he didn't respond. She took his face in her hands and turned it to look at her. His eyes were blank, hollow, and lifeless. Her eyes drifted to the hand at his side, loosely wrapped around a pistol.

She was too late.

Suddenly, the blaze was surrounding her, and there was no way out. The flames lashed out at her, biting into her skin, leaving hot trails of blood from the gouges in her skin. She spun, looking for an escape from the conflagration, but the fire surrounded her, advancing constantly. She backed herself into the middle of the cabin, and the flames continued to press forward, forming a wall of light and heat around her. There was no escape. She curled into a ball and waited to be consumed.

She was too late.

She opened her eyes and she was alone. Everything was white. The frigid wind whipped around her, as if she were in the center of a cyclone. There was ice in the wind, and the shards struck her body, leaving deep gashes in their wake. She cried out in pain from each incision. The frozen wind closed in around her, forcing the heat from her body and sucking the air from her lungs. She hugged herself and waited for the end.

She was too late.

* * *

><p>Ellie shot up on the bed, crying out in fear. She tugged up on her sleeves frantically, expecting to find wounds all over her body, but there was nothing there besides the scarred bite mark. It suddenly occurred to her how cold she was, and she looked around the enormous mattress, softly illuminated by morning's light.<p>

"Titus?" The house replied with an impenetrable silence. "Titus!?" she called again, louder this time. She added a sharp whistle and waited. The dog never came.

She ran downstairs and searched the house, but there was no sign of him. She heard the soft howl of wind and turned to look at the front door. She hadn't noticed that the lock had been kicked in years ago, and the door hung slightly ajar. She peered out to find a set of dog tracks leading in the direction of the road.

"Titus!" she shouted. She waited for minutes, but the dog never came. He was gone.

She was alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 13**


	13. Chapter 13 - Familiarity

**A/N: Everyone just assumes I killed the dog. News flash, y'all: dead dogs can't run away. I was never going to kill Titus. As several people have pointed out, that would be a cheap way to harvest some emotions from my readers. I prefer the expensive methods.**

**Got some exciting things down the pipeline related to this story. Not much to say at the moment, though. Some pieces still have to fall into place. I haven't been writing on the blog too much, but it's mostly because I've been wrapped up with the job search. I have a 2nd interview in a little while here with a company I'm really excited about, so I hope that pans out nicely. Anyways, here's the chapter. Enjoy it!**

**Soundtrack Choice for this chapter: I go between "All Gone (Seasons)" from vol. 2, and "All Gone (Alone)" from vol. 1. I think those both fit this chapter pretty well.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 13<strong>

**FAMILIARITY**

Two paths diverged in the woods. Joel stood somewhere at the end of one, Titus at the other. It was a choice Ellie was hoping she wouldn't have to make. She stood in the living room of the house, deciding whether to leave from the front door and find Titus, or the back door in pursuit of Joel.

"C'mon, Ellie…"

Without Titus's warmth, she'd have to be extra cautious in finding places to stay the night. But if she took off after him, there was no guarantee Joel's trail would be waiting for her when she returned. She might lose him forever, and that was not an option.

She turned to face the front door. The sense of abandonment left her feeling hollow, but it was a familiar sensation. After all, she'd been left behind by so many others in her life, even the one person she had grown to believe would never do such a thing. Titus's leaving should have come as no surprise.

She turned to face the back door. She had to stay the course. This was the reason she was out here at all: finding Joel. This was the one case of abandonment she would not let stand. Not after all they had been through together. She was not about to let that go.

Finding a way to keep warm during the night was imperative, and Ellie set about searching the house for a sleeping bag or tent. The house itself yielded little more than some blankets, but climbing on top of the truck in the garage to search the rafters revealed a piece of hidden treasure. A small tent was tucked into a bag next to a plastic sled.

She pulled both of them down, placing the tent in the sled and then using a length of parachute cord to form a makeshift harness. She wrapped up some blankets from the house and added them to the sled, fastening everything down with more cord before setting off after Joel.

The sled wasn't terribly heavy, but the added load would be noticeable. It would undoubtedly cut into the amount of distance she could cover each day, but actually surviving through the cold nights would be a fair trade.

Her mood was sour as she stood at the back door, looking out at the trench of footprints leading off into the treeline. She lied to herself that Titus leaving her didn't hurt, that she felt nothing, but somewhere deep inside the vacant, empty sorrow betrayed her.

She slumped to her knees and unzipped her backpack, reaching into the hidden compartment to grab the weathered piece of notebook paper. She read the note. She read it again. She read it a third time, focusing on a few select lines from the back of the page. 'Life is worth living! Find your purpose and fight for it.'

"Fight for it…" she reminded herself.

'I see so much strength in you...' Ellie folded up the note, wiping away a bit of moisture from her eyes, and placed it back in its compartment. A swell of determination rose within her as she fastened the sled around her waist. She checked the knife wound again, wrapped her coat tightly around her, and pushed through the back door to the outside.

* * *

><p>It had been a week since he had been forced to put Sally out of her misery, and still it took considerable effort to keep his mind from straying back to its old habits. He had spent the last twenty-one years shackled to the ghosts of his past, and the memories had made themselves comfortable in his head. Forcing them out was proving a constant burden.<p>

He focused on the necessities of survival: finding food, looking for a place to hole up for the night to survive the cold, staying vigilant for strangers, Infected or not. He focused on the future. There might be a QZ or two somewhere out west. The message wall in the way station had eliminated a couple of cities, but there were still a few to check. Boise was a possibility. Portland was another. Once he hit the coast, he could work his way south, from city to city. Surely Boston couldn't be the last remaining functional QZ in the country. He'd get a place to live. Find a job. Perhaps get back into the smuggling racket. Try to forget.

In the untouched forests that blanketed the mountains and hillsides of central Idaho, the snow had reached depths that made travel exceptionally difficult. Joel had been searching every building fastidiously, hoping to find a pair of snowshoes, but had come up empty thus far. The snow came up to the middle of his thighs, and trudging along was exhausting and slow. The changes in elevation didn't help matters.

He hadn't seen another living soul since the little girl. His remaining rations were running low, and while he'd pick off a squirrel or rabbit here and there, he'd need to find something more substantial soon. The rolling, pine-covered slopes seemed to stretch on forever. A couple days ago he had come across an abandoned forest ranger station replete with stacks of Idaho maps. He pored over the map he'd taken, trying to estimate his position, but it was hard to do with little in the way of landmarks. He could be a mile away from Boise. He could be twenty. He hoped it was the former.

A gust of wind cut against his skin, forcing a shiver. He folded up the map and continued west. He was carefully descending a slope when a familiar sound met his ears. Voices. He scuttled down the hill until the trees began thinning out and then tucked himself behind a pine. A road lay just below him, cutting a path into the slope as it wound through the mountains. Through the trees he could make out four figures slogging through the snow roughly forty yards away.

Slowly and quietly, he swung the hunting rifle from its place strapped to his pack. The familiar surface of the wood met his hands. It was the very same rifle he had picked up in the capitol building the previous year, and had been a trusty companion ever since. He lifted his eye to the scope and peered at the figures approaching from down the road.

They seemed fairly well-equipped. Their packs were full, and one of them was towing a heavy-laden sled. An instinctive urge rose within him. A hunger. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years, but the familiarity of it felt almost natural. He was hidden within the trees. They would have no idea what hit them. They might have food, clothing, a tent and blankets. There could be anything on that sled. Stuff he needed.

He centered the crosshairs on the figure at the rear and rested his finger on the trigger. _You got the shot. Just squeeze the trigger. Re-aim. Repeat._ But his finger refused to comply. He hesitated. _C'mon, Joel. This is old hat. You got this._ He took a couple deep breaths. _I got this._

His finger relented, and the rifle kicked hard into his shoulder in concordance with the thunderous boom. The figure at the rear was thrown backward into the snow, where it lay writhing for a moment before falling still. The other three figures looked on in shock, and Joel repositioned the crosshairs on the next target as he pulled the bolt back to load another round into the chamber. He felt himself sinking back into the calloused and dispassionate state. He pulled the trigger. He moved the crosshairs to the next body. He worked the bolt. He pulled the trigger. He moved the crosshairs to the last figure, who was wildly searching the hillside for muzzle flash. He loaded the chamber. He pulled the trigger.

The four figures lay still on the snow-covered road. The echoes of rifle fire cascaded over the distant peaks, eventually giving way to silence. Joel pulled his eye from behind the scope and looked down at his handiwork. He exhaled deeply and made his way down to the road. He scanned the area as he approached the bodies. He felt a vague sense of shame the closer he came to them, and he pointedly avoided looking at their faces.

He flipped the bodies face-down so that he could rummage through their packs. The search was fruitful, as he found several cans of food, a fully-stocked first-aid kid, and a healthy amount of ammunition. He checked under the tarp on the sled and found a couple sleeping bags and what appeared to be a cobbled-together tent that would at least provide a wind-break.

He was digging in one of the packs when he came across a tattered journal. There was a chance that these people had come from a QZ, or at least had insight into the condition of some of the QZs in the area, so he opened the journal and began skimming entries.

'-been walking for weeks without seeing a damn soul. A living one, anyways. I'm starting to wonder if there's anyone left out there besides the Infected.' He flipped a couple of pages. '-after the military abandoned the Phoenix QZ. It wasn't safe there anymore. Infected attacks were becoming more frequent, but that wasn't the worst of it. The things that people started doing to each-' He flipped through a large chunk of pages until coming to some of the more recent entries. '-where they came from. They just appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her. It all happened so goddamn fast. Scott tells me there was nothing I could have done, that it was just "one of those freak things." I killed the stage one that bit her, but it was too late. She was crying. There was so much blood. Adam told us we had to put her down, then gave us space to do so. Scott and I sat with her for awhile, trying to say our goodbyes, but when the time came I couldn't do it. Neither could he. What mother could kill their own daughter, infected or not?' Joel swallowed hard, mouth having suddenly gone dry. 'We abandoned Sally. We said goodbye, and then just left her there in that God-forsaken house to turn into one of those monsters. I will never forgive myself for that. Scott says we have to try to forget it, that it's the only way to survive, but I can't. The look on her face as she watched us leave will haunt me for the rest of my life.'

"Goddammit," he muttered to himself.

He looked back at the bodies. The reward had proven worth the cost, but guilt still managed to shoulder its way into his conscience. Joel focused his attention on suppressing it as he fastened the sled to his waist.

"You did it to survive," he assured himself. He gleaned a shred of solace in the fact that at least they were with their daughter now.

He checked the map for the road on which he stood, hoping that it led to Boise. He towed the sled down the road for a mile or two until he found a highway marker. He checked the number against the map, searching for a couple minutes until he found the obscure little mountain road. He wasn't far from Boise. He could reach it by tonight if he followed the road west.

Buoyed by the realization, he steadied himself and made for the city. The sun was kissing the horizon by the time buildings appeared from over the next ridge.

* * *

><p>Ellie trotted hurriedly down the path of footprints, checking behind her occasionally to ensure the sled hadn't tipped over as it skidded along. She would recognize the sound of that rifle anywhere, and the four echoing blasts had come from Joel's direction. He couldn't be far now. She was fed up with so many near misses in her pursuit of him.<p>

The last week had been brutal. Without Titus's warmth, she'd been toeing the line of frostbite each night, swaddled in a cocoon of blankets within the scavenged tent. Those nights were fraught with chattering teeth and a festering bitterness that had taken root within her, but the bitterness had also fostered a renewed sense of determination to find Joel. So many times in the past people had abandoned her and there was nothing she could do about it. This time would be different. She wasn't going to let Joel get away with it.

She began scrambling down a slope, following Joel's trail, when it led up to the base of a pine tree before scooting around it. She scanned the area and was able to make out a ribbon of uninterrupted white cutting through the hilly forest. There were four piles on the snow, but it was impossible to tell if they were bodies or something else. She made her way down to the road and went to check on the four shapes.

They were bodies alright. They were all dead. Ellie untied the sled and pulled a glove from her hand to tentatively touch one of them on the cheek, checking for body heat. The body was cold, but not freezing cold. These four had recently been killed. Each of them must have caught a round from Joel's rifle. She had a suspicion and checked their packs. If they had had anything of value, it was missing.

_I've been on both sides._ The memory of Joel's words made her shiver. She had seen the good in him, checkered past notwithstanding. The thought of him reverting into his old ways of being a hunter made her anxious. She had to pull him back from that place.

"I've gotta find him," she whispered to the rustling wind. Her words were silenced and carried away on a stiff breeze.

The staccato snap of a broken twig behind her made her spin in place. She had drawn her pistol subconsciously and was waving it toward the nearby trees, looking for a source of movement. Everything was still aside from the blowing flakes of snow carried on the wind.

Something struck her from behind, and a searing pain erupted from her chest. The blow knocked her forward a step, and she looked down in shock to see the point of a machete sticking through her sternum. The blade was stained red with blood. Her blood. It began flowing from the void the blade had created, trickling down her coat to stain the snow.

"You know, you keep surprising me," his hushed voice seethed into her ear. She felt the sole of his boot plant into her back, kicking her off of the blade. "It's gonna be alright…"

She fell to her knees, gurgling as the taste of blood pervaded her mouth. Her vision began dimming, going black around the edges, as she looked down to see the snow turning red beneath her. The last thing she saw was the approaching wall of white snow as she fell toward it.

She jumped at the impact, looking around in confusion. She brought her hands to her chest, tearing helplessly at the fabric in search for a gash that wasn't there. Her heart was thrumming rapidly within her, and her breaths were shallow and panicked. She turned a full circle in the middle of the road. Besides the four bodies that littered the snow, she was alone.

She forced herself to breathe evenly in an effort to ease her nerves and bring down her heart rate. "You're okay… you're okay, Ellie…" she told herself.

She holstered the pistol and searched for Joel's footprints. They had moved from body to body a few times before taking off down the road. A wide, smooth groove cut into the snow over his footprints. It was a familiar pattern, mirrored in the opposite direction of the road. Joel must have taken a sled that these four were hauling. She tugged the sled into position and fastened it around her waist. The sun was getting dangerously low in the sky, but Ellie was determined to cover as much ground as she could.

She would typically leave enough daylight to pitch the tent, but the last night or two had been clear with a mostly-full moon, so she resolved to carrying on into the night. The sled Joel was pulling meant she could feel his path as much as see it, but the moonlight did help out immensely.

The cold, faint glow of moonlight fell upon the tops of buildings as she crested the next ridge. A sign at the edge of town read 'Boise City Limits.' He was still here. She could feel it. Somewhere within the city, Joel was holed up for the night. But finding him would have to wait until morning. She was freezing. The knife wound, though healing well, was aching. Finding a sheltered place to sleep became top priority. She tugged on the sled and made for the nearest building.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, after all those cold days and frozen nights, after all of the miles and misery, she would finally find him.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 14**


	14. Chapter 14 - Bleak

**A/N: There's some exciting rumors afoot. Well, a rumor, I suppose. Word has it that The Last of Us is heading to the PS4. Now, I don't have a PS4, but I do plan on getting one before too long. Perhaps when I land that new job.**

**Okay, in light of the impending climax of the story, I'm going to probably be keeping my author's notes to a minimum from now on. Mainly, I don't want to unintentionally spoil anything or give you a false notion of what's to come. I'm just going to keep it short and sweet. That said, I'm going to end this author's note here.**

**Soundtrack choice: I think the main theme fits this chapter fairly well, especially the beginning section. After that, choose your own adventure!**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 14<strong>

**BLEAK**

Morning's light filtered in through the slats of the boarded-up windows, drifting lazily down the wall and onto the floor. A soft orange glow fell onto her eyelids, rousing her from within her shroud of blankets. She slowly lifted her eyelids, squinting as the sunlight hit her sensitive eyes.

She sat up quickly. It was morning in Boise, and somewhere out there, beyond the walls of the abandoned cafe, Joel was waiting. Her mind was clear and she felt refreshed after a night of uncharacteristically dreamless sleep. She stood and went over behind the counter of the cafe to search for breakfast.

She flicked on her flashlight and crawled into one of the expansive cabinets, checking the back corners for anything that other scavengers might have missed. She searched each one, but there was nothing that the rats and other scavengers hadn't already claimed for themselves.

She checked the back room and found the door to a walk-in fridge. It took considerable effort to break inside, but eventually the rusted latch gave way and the door swung open. A cloud of spores washed over her, and she tensed instinctively. The handle of her mother's switchblade was smooth and cold in bare her hand as she waited for any resident Infected to emerge from the fridge. There was nothing inside but silence.

She peered around the edge of the door, her flashlight illuminating the scene. There were no figures standing within, poised to ambush her. A few of the fungal horns blossomed in the corners, spewing plumes of spores into the air. In the far corner, the remains of a body sat slumped over, its face and chest ripped apart by protruding fungal plates, the final stage of the cordyceps life-cycle on full display.

To her dismay, the walk-in was devoid of any canned food. She let out a sigh of frustration as her stomach grumbled. Another door in the back room caught her eye, and she sauntered over to it. It was locked. If Joel were here, he could shiv the door open. Locked doors were goldmines more often than not. She had begged him to teach her the shiv trick numerous times, but for one reason or another, it hadn't happened. Some things you just have to learn on your own.

She brought up the switchblade and positioned it in the narrow gap between the strike plate and the door jamb, trying to imitate the movements she had seen Joel make countless times in their travels together. She slid the blade downward toward the latch, hoping to catch it and force it open. She grabbed the handle and turned, putting her weight into it as she moved the blade downward. She was rewarded with a satisfying click from the latch, and the door swung open.

"Fuck yeah," she muttered in exultation.

She walked into the previously locked room and scanned the shelves. There were a few gallon jugs of water with which Ellie refilled her canteen and drank from deeply. Several cans of food sat on the shelves as well, and she felt herself drawn to the can of cinnamon apples. She grabbed an armful of cans and tossed them into her backpack. Finally, her mind on Joel, she grabbed a full tin of coffee before returning to the main room of the cafe.

She walked over to one of the booths and took a seat. She opened one of the cans of apples with the can opener, stabbed one with her knife, and popped it into her mouth. They were cold, and slightly on the frozen side, but the flavor was exquisite, cloyingly saccharine but with a nice spiciness from the cinnamon. Food from back then, even after having aged twenty-plus years, was so much more flavorful than the bland options that were readily available these days.

She chewed the apple for a long while, savoring every morsel, as she scanned the room of the cafe. Her mind began reassembling the image of this place as it might have been before the outbreak. Cracked and peeling wallpaper returned to a smooth, vividly colorful surface. The weathered, aged wood of the furniture darkened into a rich, shiny varnished gleam. The boards over the windows faded away, revealing pristine, spotless glass. The lights in the room illuminated, shining on the menu boards and the lettering over the counter that read 'Rivers Cafe.' People stood in line, waiting eagerly for their morning cup of coffee.

Her eyes drifted back to her table to find Joel sitting across from her, sipping a steaming cup of coffee as he looked out the window. His skin was clean, his beard well-trimmed, and his eyes brighter than she'd ever seen them. His flannel shirt was crisp and devoid of stains or tears. The watch on his wrist bore an unshattered face and she could see the second hand ticking its way around.

"I reckon it's gonna be a beautiful day," he remarked, eyes remaining on the world outside.

She turned her head to follow his gaze. The crumbled buildings had reassembled themselves, becoming the immaculate monoliths of booming civilization. Cars motored by, their unmarred paint gleaming in the sunlight. Pedestrians strolled to and fro, idly checking their phones, showing no signs of the worry or stress that was ingrained in post-outbreak life. Everything was saturated in a sort of fairy tale glow, slightly blurry around the edges.

Her gaze moved from the window back to Joel, but found an empty seat instead. The leather of the booth had returned to its cracked, worn state. She looked around to find the rest of the cafe had followed suit, once again an image of post-apocalyptic decay. The fairy tale glow was gone along with the blurred edges, and now everything was defined by a bleak sharpness.

"Yeah…"

She finished the apples and knocked the can carelessly to the floor. The surge of determination reignited within her, and she set about packing up her things. After a few minutes she stood at the door of the cafe, sled fastened around her waist, looking out at the street. She pulled on her gloves, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the cold.

An arctic blast of wind hit her as she made her way onto the street. The wind had picked up overnight, and drifts had formed over the remnants of Joel's trail. She pulled the scarf up so that only her eyes were exposed and headed deeper into town.

The street was littered with abandoned cars and debris, like so many she had seen in her cross-country trek with Joel. Boise was a large city, and as such it must have had a quarantine zone. There was an outside chance it was still in operation. She looked up at a sign on the side of the street that indicated there was a US Army base in town. That seemed as likely a location as any for a quarantine zone. It was also the likeliest place to find supplies in town, as the military usually kept themselves well-stocked with survival goods. That's where Joel would probably go first.

She wandered the streets, looking for signs that would direct her to the base. She walked aimlessly for an hour before deciding to take a smarter tack. She headed into a nearby gas station in search of a city map.

She was perusing the map at the counter when the sound of voices caused her to duck and creep up to the windows. She craned her neck to peer out into the street and saw the figures of five men. They were too far off to decipher their conversation. They were all armed; a couple had shotguns while the rest wore pistols on their belts. They bore the look of a typical group of hunters, readying themselves to scout out an area looking for supplies or survivors to rob. Or worse.

The five hunters came to a halt and circled up in the nearby intersection. She still couldn't make out their conversation, but readied herself to make a retreat should one of them turn her direction.

The door of the building on the opposite corner of the intersection swung open, and a runner stumbled out onto the street. The five men turned their attention to it, and one of the shotgun-wielding hunters lifted his weapon at the creature. He waited until it was charging him, then fired a shell of buckshot into its chest at close range. The runner was thrown backwards into the snow, twitching violently until falling still.

One of the other hunters clapped him on the back and a round of laughs was shared. Their amusement was short-lived, as doors started swinging open from all around them. Infected poured onto the streets and fell through windows, attracted by the shotgun blast. The sound of moans, shrieks, and clicks filled the street, accompanied soon after by booms of frantic gunfire. Ellie looked on as the men were overrun by the horde. Though well-armed, they were vastly outnumbered. She hadn't seen this many Infected in one place since the horde swept through the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh.

She crept backwards to sneak out of the shop and bumped into a postcard carousel, sending it toppling to the floor in a conspicuous crash. Nearby runners heard the commotion and turned to the gas station.

"Oh fuck," she whispered.

She vaulted over the window into the alley behind the gas station. She hurried down to the end of the alley, looking to sneak off quietly, but a cluster of Infected rounded the corner ahead. The runners saw her and took off in her direction.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

She turned around to find another group of Infected approaching from that direction. She was trapped. Her eyes darted over the alley, looking for a way out. She tried the nearest door, but it was locked. A little ways down the alley was a dumpster and, a few feet above it, a ladder to a fire escape. She bolted toward it, climbed onto the dumpster, and leapt for the ladder. Her hands hit the rungs and she nearly lost her grip. She tightened her grasp and pulled her way upwards just as the Infected arrived beneath her. They clawed for her legs, but she was just out of reach.

She ascended the fire escape, making her way to the roof of the building. The Infected couldn't follow her and she hoped they'd disperse over time. She made her way across the snow-covered rooftop and pulled out the map, trying to gain her bearings. Off in the distance, fortified guard towers towered over high walls. That had to be the quarantine zone. Ellie checked the map. After deducing her position, she determined that the QZ was indeed constructed around the military base. Getting there wouldn't be easy, especially if packs of Infected like the one at the foot of the building were common in the city.

She had left her sled, full of blankets, her tent, and a pile of food, in the gas station. She wasn't willing to abandon it without knowing how long it'd be until she found Joel. The Infected had her treed, and her only option was to wait for them to wander off once they'd given up on her. She made her way back down the fire escape and looked for open windows, opting to do some scavenging while she waited.

She crawled into an open window and found herself in a ransacked apartment. The door had been boarded shut at some point, but now lie on the floor, thrown off its hinges. The cabinets in the kitchenette were bare, their contents scattered across the floor. A notebook sat on the dining room table, and Ellie approached to find a half-finished entry scrawled in sloppy script on the page.

'This place is rotting from the inside out. Those goddamn Fireflies show up one day and blast a hole through the wall of the quarantine zone. I'm starting to really question their purpose. They seem more invested in destroying the military than their fucking purported campaign to "save mankind." Anyways, once the infection had taken root in the zone, the military said fuck it and bailed. The rest of us were left here to fend for ourselves. Won't be too long and the Infected will outnumber the rest of us. I think it's finally time to say goodbye to this city - to my home...'

She pushed the notebook aside in disgust. "Well, that answers that," Ellie muttered, knowing that the QZ had fallen who-knows-how-long-ago.

Her confidence and determination waned momentarily. This whole city could be an Infected minefield. If Joel wasn't in the QZ, she might lose him forever. She exhaled, trying to shake the frustration away, and crossed to the open door of the apartment. She flicked on her flashlight and pulled her pistol from its holster. Carefully, she worked her way down, floor by floor, until she came to ground level.

She peered out the window into the alley where she had evaded the Infected. It had been over an hour since she'd given them the slip, and no sign of them remained aside from their tracks in the snow. Cautiously, she nudged the door open and slipped into the alley. She retraced her steps to the gas station, retrieved the sled, and started heading toward the quarantine zone.

* * *

><p>The sky was beginning to darken by the time the walls of the quarantine zone came into view. The town was indeed crawling with Infected, and she had spent the lion's share of the day evading them or waiting for them to pass by. She had come across freshly slain runners and clickers here and there, but there was no clear indication as to whether or not they were signs of Joel's passing.<p>

A heavy snow had started to fall, with thick clumps of the stuff hindering her vision. Flakes lighted on her hat and scarf, and before long she was covered in a thin layer of snow. She dipped her head and made for the wall when the telltale sounds of Infected came from her left. She let out an exasperated sigh and hurried into a nearby building. She pulled the sled inside and shut the door as quietly as she could manage.

In a happy accident, she had wandered into a jewelry store, which meant bars over the windows and a heavy drop-bar to secure the door. A veritable fortress these days. She unfastened the sled and removed her backpack, rolling her sore shoulders to relieve some tension. She had been on edge ever since the close call at the gas station, and she tried to let herself relax a bit. Exhaustion hit her in full force.

The frustration made relaxation difficult. If the wind hadn't completely covered Joel's trail, the heavy snowfall would surely finish the job. What would happen if she lost him? Would she just turn around and go back to Jackson? Would this whole excursion be for nothing? No. She couldn't let that happen. None of those questions were even worth asking. She'd find him. She'd find him, or die trying.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 15**


	15. Chapter 15 - Shell

**A/N: [This field left intentionally blank.]**

**Soundtrack choice for the chapter: I'm gonna go a little bit off the reservation here, but keep it in the Gustavo Santaolalla territory. If you have Spotify or Google Music All Access, pull up the track "Way Up" which is the first track from Gustavo's album Ronroco. Otherwise, pull it up on the YouTubes. Put that ish on repeat. Something about that song really works with this chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 15<strong>

**SHELL**

The barracks rose from the earth, motionless in the cold morning light. A fresh set of prints led her to this spot, and they continued ahead of her before disappearing into a doorway. Ellie checked her surroundings, then looked again at the structure before her. It gazed back at her in unassuming silence. She didn't like this place. Something about it felt… wrong.

The draw of the footprints overcame her hesitance and she followed them into the building. She unfastened the sled and left it just inside the door. She could pick it up on the way out. Once she had rendezvoused with Joel. The hallways were dark and littered with detritus and military paraphernalia, and she had to watch her step as to not make too much commotion. The decayed corpse of a former corpsman lay sprawled in a doorway, reaching out to her with petrified arms.

She strained her ears to listen for any sign of Joel's presence, but the only response was a wall of silence. If he was still in the barracks, he couldn't have been in this wing of it. She popped her head into each room hoping against hope to see his figure rooting through footlockers in search of supplies, but time and again the only occupants of the rooms were the long deceased.

Ellie reached the final room in the hallway and made her way inside. The windows were blown out, and snow and glass alike gave the floor a shimmering appearance, sparkling as the surface of the sea. She took a few cautious steps into the room, grimacing as an audible crunch rose from each footfall.

The room bore striking resemblance to her dormitory back in Boston. She tiptoed her way over to the lower bunk of the bed and sat down, slipping off her gloves and tucking them into her backpack. She scanned the familiar room. It was more than a striking resemblance, the layout was nearly identical to her own. Her hand absently slid under the pillow at the head of the bed, almost expecting to find her switchblade waiting for her.

"Now c'mon... when have we ever gotten into trouble?"

Ellie's eyes darted to the doorway just as a figure disappeared through it. "Riley?"

She sprung up from the bed, trotted to the door and peered out into the hall. She turned her head to check the way she came. Nothing. Turning the other way, she caught a glimpse of the door latching as if someone had just passed through it.

_It's not her, Ellie. She's gone. It's just your mind… just your memories playing tricks on you again_, she reminded herself. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but pursue the elusive figure with the thought that it might be Joel. She pushed the crash bar on the door and slipped into the common area of the barracks.

The wide room had doorways at each end, leading into different wings of the barracks. Ellie didn't have much time to take in the room before hearing a door close on the opposite side.

"Joel?"

There was no response. She crossed the room quickly and burst through the door, hoping to see him slipping into one of the rooms. A shape ducked out of sight about halfway down the hall, and Ellie gave chase. She rounded the corner where the figure had disappeared and passed through a doorway into a stairwell. Somewhere above her, the sound of a door closing echoed off of the cold brickwork.

She ran up two split flights of stairs to the second floor and pushed the door open. The old familiar taste of cordyceps spores filled her sinuses immediately. The spores were so thick in the air that she could barely see five feet in front of her.

"Shit…" she muttered.

She crept into the hallway, forced to thumb on her flashlight to have any chance of navigating the cluttered passage. The light flickered, and she rattled it in an attempt to steady the beam. For some reason, the rattling didn't help, and it persisted in cutting in and out, adding to her apprehension as she slowly advanced down the hall.

"Joel," she called in a loud whisper. She tried again, with a touch more volume, "Joel!"

She reached the end of the hall where a door led into the upper level of the common area. She pressed the crash bar as quietly as possible and inched the door ajar. It opened about a foot before it met unseen resistance on the opposite side. The gap was barely wide enough for her to fit, but she squeezed through.

A broken skylight cast a column of blue light onto the floor in the middle of the room. The corners were still dark, and the rest of the room was dimly illuminated from the broken skylight. Ellie scanned the expanse before her and quickly froze. There were scattered figures standing around the room. Too many to count. They twitched and convulsed in place.

"Oh fuck…" Ellie reached back to leave, but the door had locked behind her. "Fucking thing."

She searched for a way to sneak around or through the Infected, but the room was full of them. She'd have to draw them to one side and sneak around to the opposite door. She searched the floor in the immediate area for something to throw. Her eyes fell upon a dust-covered, empty beer bottle. She picked it up and recoiled to throw it at the far wall of the room.

She threw with all of her might, but the bottle shattered only a moment after leaving her hand. She looked up to find a hanging light fixture she hadn't seen wobbling back and forth in the dim blue light. A shower of glass shards began to fall a few feet away from her, each fragment tinkling conspicuously on the cold tile.

The Infected in the room all turned her direction, shrieking out in surprise. Moving as one, they all made directly for her, shambling forward with uncoordinated urgency. Panic ignited within her, sharpening her senses as she sought an avenue of escape. She deemed it best to take the shortest path to the far door and deal with the Infected as she went. She pulled her pistol from its holster with one hand and flicked open the switchblade with the other.

The runners were coming fast, and she hurdled over a nearby couch before firing a round into the face of the nearest Infected. She leapt over it's body and ducked under the grasping arms of another. Another runner came at her from her left, and she buried the switchblade in its temple before wrenching it free with a spray of blood.

It fell to the ground and her legs got tangled with its limp arms, sending her sprawling. A runner fell on her and she struggled to roll over, keeping it at arm's length long enough to fire a shot into its face. She squirmed out from under it quickly, needing to get back to her feet before more arrived.

She set her sights on the door and bolted for it, but it was still twenty yards away and at least half a dozen Infected were there to hinder her approach. She downed four of them with carefully placed headshots before her gun clicked empty. The horde was rapidly approaching all around her. She ran for the doorway, dodging one Infected and taking out another with the switchblade.

Her hands met the handle of the door and she frantically tried to turn it. Locked. This was it. She was trapped. After all of the toil and torment it took to get here, she was going to die locked in a room in an overrun QZ in Boise. And worse, she was going to die alone.

She pounded on the door, hoping someone, anyone, would be within earshot on the other side. "Help! Let me out of here! Help, please!" But she knew her screams were in vain.

She put her back to the door, reloaded her pistol, and faced the oncoming horde. With her uncanny aim, each shot met its target and six more Infected fell to the floor. But it wasn't nearly enough. It seemed that half of the former inhabitants of the barracks had congregated in this room, and each fallen Infected was soon replaced by a fresh one.

One magazine left, she slid it into the pistol and flicked the slide forward. She could always save the last bullet for herself so she wouldn't have to experience being torn apart. She took down another five runners before she brought the pistol to her own temple. In that final moment, her thoughts turned to Joel. And then Riley.

"See you soon," she whispered, then shut her eyes.

A rush of wind washed over her, and she felt something grip her shoulders, pulling her backwards. She let the pistol drop from her head as she opened her eyes. She was being dragged away from the door and down the hallway on the other side. The door was closing, but before it could latch and lock, the arms of Infected appeared. They began pouring through the doorway in hot pursuit.

"C'mon, get to your feet! We gotta get outta here!" the voice was so familiar, even muffled through the gasmask. It was almost as if he'd never left at all.

"Joel!" she exclaimed as she found her feet beneath her.

He turned back to the door and fired the revolver into the pack of Infected. "We're gonna need to run!"

"I'm right beside you!" she replied.

The gunfire had drawn the attention of every Infected in the building, and they began emerging from the rooms around them. "This way!" Joel called, ducking into the stairwell. Ellie followed on his heels, turning back to check for Infected.

"I'm empty!" she yelled, gesturing to her gun.

"Here," Joel handed her his 9mm and a couple of magazines. "Make every shot count."

"When do I not?" She snapped as fired into the pursuing mob. A runner fell with each shot, and she threw a smirk in Joel's direction.

"That a trick question?" he quipped before stopping on the landing between flights of stairs. "Oh shit!"

Ellie followed his gaze to see Infected bursting through the door at the bottom of the stairs. They were cornered. It wasn't the ideal place for a last stand, but it would have to do. She turned her attention back to the second level. "I've got upstairs, you've got down! We're gonna have to fight our way out!"

"Yeah!" he yelled between gunshots, "Ellie! If we don't make it-"

"Shut the fuck up!" she fired the pistol again, "I didn't come all this way to die like this! I'm gonna live, goddammit!"

The bodies began piling up at each end of the stairs. Ellie emptied all of the magazines into the neverending wave of Infected. When the 9mm clicked empty, she tossed it aside and swung the rifle around. She took out three more with the rifle, but didn't have time to reload, so she cast it aside as well. She had a handful of arrows left, so she pulled out the bow and let fly as many as she could manage.

"I'm out!" she cried. Her stock of projectiles completely exhausted, she brandished the switchblade and braced for hand-to-hand combat.

She heard Joel's gun click empty behind her. "Me too!"

The Infected just kept coming. They poured down the staircase, tripping over the bodies of their fallen comrades, tumbling down the steps in a heap. Ellie took advantage of their discombobulation and drove her switchblade into as many skulls as she could reach.

Suddenly, they were on top of her, and she felt herself going rabid with anger. She wasn't going to let it end this way. Not like this. Not after all they'd been through, all she'd been through to reunite with him. She flailed wildly, stabbing everything that was within reach of her switchblade. She became a flurry of limbs and blade.

More and more Infected started piling up, and after another minute she couldn't believe that she was still fighting. She stole a glance behind her to see Joel thrashing about like an enraged animal, punching and kicking and swinging his empty rifle like a bat. He was covered in blood and, looking down, she realized that she was too. There was no way to tell who the blood belonged to, but she couldn't feel any severe wounds beyond a scratch here or there.

The switchblade moved with borderline autonomy, seeking out new targets in the critical regions of the Infected anatomy. Ellie crawled out from a pile of bodies and stood, dripping with blood, before throwing herself at an approaching Infected. She roared in anger as she drove the switchblade repeatedly into its face and neck.

There was a brief lapse in the wave from her side, and she looked back to find Joel grappling with a clicker. She had seen the strength they were capable of exhibiting and, without a moment's hesitation, launched herself at the creature. She landed on its back, grabbed a fungal plate, wrenched its head back, and drove the switchblade into its throat, tearing wildly until its head bent at an awkward angle. The creature crumpled to the ground beneath her.

She stood, breathing heavy, sodden with sweat, blood, and angry tears. All was silent and still. She gripped the switchblade tightly, looking for more attackers. The barracks was quiet aside from the occasional gurgle from a slain Infected.

"I think we're clear…" she said. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, causing every nerve ending to tingle and every sensory receptor to buzz with information. She felt every bead of sweat trickling down her body, every drop of blood that fell from her fingertips and cheeks.

There were bodies piled on the floor, lying in expanding pools of blood. Shell casings stuck out like stars against the dark pools. They had done it. By sheer force of will and tenacious determination, they had survived.

She turned to Joel with a look of celebration on her face, expecting to find him standing beside her. He wasn't there. He was sitting against the wall, gasmask removed, pressing a rag to his neck. The jubilation within her vanished as soon as it had come. She was at his side in an instant.

"Joel!" she yelped, looking at the wound and noticing the amount of blood. "Oh fuck! Please tell me I accidentally stabbed you or something.".

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Afraid not…"

She swallowed hard and reached up to pull his hand away. The rag was already crimson with blood, and she peeled it away to reveal a grisly bite wound. It wasn't the type of wound she had sustained at the hands of the runner so long ago. There was flesh missing, and blood was gushing from the void left in its place. From her experience in the Boston QZ infirmary, she knew a fatal wound when she saw one.

"No… no, no, no, no…" she whimpered. She pressed the rag into the wound to staunch the bleeding, but it was useless. If the blood loss didn't kill him, the cordyceps would. Joel was a goner. "Fuck… no..."

"Ellie… listen to me…" Joel sputtered.

"No…" she whispered.

"Listen to me… I need you to get back to Jackson… to Tommy and Mar-" he grimaced in pain before continuing, "get back to Tommy and Maria. They'll take care of you. You have to survive-"

"I'm not leaving you, Joel… I can't… I can't do thi-"

"It ain't up for negotiation. You have to go back. You have to live your life. You-" another bout of pain weakened his breathing, but he soldiered on, "You knew I wouldn't always be, ah… wouldn't always be around, Ellie… I ain't exactly a spring chicken no more… but you can't just give up because I'm gon-"

"No…"

"This is my last stop… our luck had to run out sooner or later…"

"Joel, no… no, you can't fucking do this to me…" She felt the hot tears overcome her eyelids and trace burning paths down her cheeks. "You can't."

It wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to play out. She was supposed to find him, enlighten him on the error of his ways, and convince him to come back with her to Jackson. But the world didn't give a damn about how things were "supposed to" work out. It was a God-forsaken place. Another loved one was about to die on her, and it didn't bat an eye.

Ever since she and Riley got bit in the mall, there had been a small coal of anger smoldering deep within her. It flared up from time to time, boiling over into fits of rage. She felt it strike when she was hacking David's face to pieces. She felt the burn when Joel admitted his lie and what he had done in Salt Lake City. She felt the molten fluid of anger pouring into her extremities when the four strangers threatened to kill and eat Titus. None of those compared to the anger that erupted within her at that moment.

"Fuck! Fuck this goddamn fucking shit!" she screamed, rising from his side and grabbing his rifle. She drove the butt of the gun into the head of the clicker that had inflicted the bite, repeatedly smashing its face until nothing recognizable remained of its head. Unsatisfied, she moved on to the next-closest Infected and continued pounding away, every other word punctuated by the thud of rifle stock meeting afflicted flesh. "Fuck! Fucking goddamn fuck! FUCK! This was not fucking supposed to fucking happen!"

The coal had been stoked into an inferno, and the fires burned brilliantly within her, consuming her insides and filling her limbs with a restless fury. She felt herself slipping away, completely overcome by the rancorous anger. She found herself watching from the outside as her tantrum played itself out, hardly recognizing herself having succumbed to her own rage.

She had staved in the heads of four Infected by the time her energy gave out, and she let the rifle fall clattering to the floor. She slumped to a sitting position next to Joel and rested her head on his shoulder. His breathing had slowed, but he was still holding on.

"Ellie-" he began before a bout of coughs hampered his voice. "Ellie, I'm sorry. I… I never should have left…"

"You've got that fucking right," she muttered inaudibly.

"Listen to me… you've gotta go b-"

"I'm not going back, Joel, so just... fucking drop it."

"You have to-"

"No!" she snapped, turning to face him. "Shut up. I'm not going goddamn anywhere."

His breathing had turned into wheezing as his condition worsened, and protestation required too much effort for him to continue. He simply sat holding the rag to the mortal wound in an effort to squeeze out every second of life he could. She sat beside him steeped in anger and bitterness; not the emotions she had expected in this scenario. It was all so unfair.

"Ellie."

"What?" she said curtly.

He coughed roughly before speaking again. "If I have to die… I'm-" more coughing interrupted him, followed by pained moans. "I'm glad that…mmm… that you're the last thing I'm gonna see…"

She felt some of the bitterness subside and she crawled her way into his lap, where she wrapped him in an embrace. Inexplicably, her mind drifted and she realized she had forgotten about the final round in her pistol. The way out. Their way out. With her opposite hand, she quietly drew it from its holster. She put her cheek on Joel's and placed the gun to her temple, looking to end both of their miseries together.

"Me too."

She pulled the trigger.

The gun fired.

She heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. Curious as to how it was even possible to hear such a thing, she opened her eyes. The scene hadn't changed, but now Joel was lying still, fallen over to one side with a bullet hole in his temple. A black pool began spreading around his head. The sight made Ellie jump back in terror. Her hand shot to her own temple, but there was no bullet hole. Just smooth, unscathed skin.

She brought the gun up and tucked it beneath her chin. She pulled the trigger, but it clicked empty. She looked at the gun in confusion and slid the magazine out. It was empty. She turned back to Joel and shook him.

"Joel! Joel!"

But he was gone. Despair began to claw its way into her, starting in her fingers and toes and working towards her heart. She couldn't go on like this. Not without him. In desperation, she flicked out the switchblade and buried it into her own throat.

She felt no pain. She pulled the knife free, and its blade was gleaming and unblemished. She watched closely as she dragged the blade over her arm, but it passed through it as if it were slicing into a bowl of milk. The skin was unharmed.

"No… no, no, no…" she said in disbelief.

She was becoming frenetic. There was no way out of this fever dream. She was damned to suffer next to the corpse of the person she held most dear. Around her, the stairways, the walls, and the world outside of the barracks began to disintegrate, crumbling and falling away into a black void beneath her. She was left on the floating chunk of landing, accompanied only by Joel's lifeless body.

She tugged at his body until he was lying in her lap. Every one of her senses was going numb and blank, and she was given over to a state of desolation so devastating she couldn't even manage to think straight. This was beyond mourning or sorrow. Her psyche had shattered completely. She was an empty shell.

The landing itself began to disintegrate and the edge began drawing itself closer to her. Everything was being replaced by blackness. Nothingness. The floor beneath Joel's body disappeared, and she found herself grasping at him as he slipped into the abyss. And then he was gone. And then she was truly and completely alone.

She sat there, slumped limply against the wall, completely surrendered to the weight of anguish. She waited for the floor beneath her to disintegrate, and then she joined Joel in the abyss.

* * *

><p>She was awoken by her own sobbing. She opened her eyes and saw the faint glow of the pre-dawn sky through the barred windows. She felt paralytic, transfixed by fear as the aftereffects of the dream wore off. Every single muscle in her body had been clenched to the point of pain, and it would take a long time to unfurl them completely. Her heart was racing and she was freezing from the sweat that had wicked into her clothes.<p>

She stayed there curled up in the fetal position for an hour until she had convinced herself that none of it was real. Joel was still alive. She was still alive. This was not the end.

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><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 16**


	16. Chapter 16 - Blindsided

**A/N: Okay, mea culpa. Sorry for the fake-out on that last chapter. But also, not sorry. If you follow my blog, you'll know that a reason for the dream sequence exists beyond just pulling a quick one on you all. I'm not giving any specifics as to what that reason is, but it'll become clear before too long. Things are really going to start accelerating now through the end of the series. Also, another thing I reiterated on my blog is that, no, there is not going to be an Aftermath: Part IV. This series will conclude with Part III and I think I've come up with a very appropriate and moving way to wrap up the series. Time will tell, though.**

**In other news, I'm happy to say that yesterday I accepted an offer with an exciting medical device company and I start working on Monday! I'm beyond excited to get back to work, especially for such a great company. It also happens to be about 3 minutes from my apartment, so that's real convenient. Thanks for all of your thoughts and words of encouragement during this time of joblessness. Reading reviews on here never failed to pick up my mood when I was having a sour day.**

**Soundtrack choice for this chapter: "The Last of Us (Astray)" from the soundtrack volume 2.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 16<strong>

**BLINDSIDED**

Sunlight glinted off of the few precious stones that remained inside the shattered glass display cases, casting dozens of miniature rainbows over the walls of the jewelry store. Ellie sat wrapped in blankets and watched as they slid across the wall. They provided a welcome distraction.

She was intentionally keeping her eyes off of the display cases themselves, as they dredged up memories that she was in no mood to revisit after the night she'd had. In spite of her efforts, the ghost figure of Riley dancing on top of them kept needling its way into her peripheral.

_Don't go..._

She buried her face in the blankets. The intricate details of the dream had already begun to go a bit vague, as they are wont to do. She remembered the general series of events, but the images and specifics eluded her. A dreadful darkness filled her mind when she tried to recall various events that had transpired, and before long all that she could really recall was being trapped, being saved by Joel, and then losing him. The rest of the details were superfluous anyways. The core concepts of the dream were enough to send her reeling both mentally and emotionally.

It seemed her mind never let her off easy. If she wasn't oppressed by nightmares, she was harrowed by painful memories in waking. She had only ever found one proven remedy to these afflictions: Joel. Her nightmares were less frequent when he was around, and he somehow managed to keep her mind off of the past and on things to come.

He was the eye of the storm. Ever since she'd been reunited with him in that burning restaurant, he had been her anchor. He had pulled her back from the brink, and while their relationship had been tempestuous at times, he remained the one person she trusted more than any other, even in light of his lie. She wasn't about to let him go. She'd drag him back to Jackson kicking and screaming if she had to.

Bolstered with determination, she pulled herself from the warm shroud of blankets and opened a new can of spiced apples. She stood at the window as she ate, looking out at the walls of the quarantine zone. She had found the QZ. Getting inside would be the next obstacle.

She finished the can of apples and set about packing up her sled. After a few minutes, she stood at the front door, bundled up and ready to face the cold. She pulled the sled out behind her and fastened it to her waist once again, then made for the wall.

Her mind drifted back to the note she had found the day before. Somewhere along the perimeter, the wall had been blown out by the Fireflies. Passing through there would be easier than trying to come up with a solution to opening the barricaded gates.

She reached the wall and looked down along it in both directions. "Which way, Joel?"

She contemplated for a moment before deciding to turn to her left and follow the wall. She walked along, tugging against the weight of the sled, searching for signs of a breach in the concrete façade.

After a couple of blocks, her morale perked up at the sight of a set of footprints trudging through the deep powder. The path was fairly fresh, probably from earlier that morning. She felt her pace quicken with the small burst of excitement. The trail came from a nearby street and also turned left following the wall. She followed it for a few more blocks until the breach finally came into view. Sure enough, the trail led through it and into the QZ. Ellie climbed into the breach and the interior of the QZ was spread out before her.

The barracks rose from the earth, motionless in the cold morning light. The trail of prints continued ahead of her before disappearing into a doorway. Ellie checked her surroundings, then looked again at the structure before her. It gazed back at her in unassuming silence. She didn't like this place. Something about it felt eerily familiar.

The draw of the footprints overcame her hesitance and she followed them into the building. She unfastened the sled and left it just inside the door. She could pick it up on the way out after she had rendezvoused with Joel. The hallways were dark and littered with detritus and military paraphernalia, and she had to watch her step as to not make too much commotion. The decayed corpse of a former corpsman lay sprawled in the middle of the hall, and she stepped over it hesitantly.

She strained her ears to listen for any sign of Joel's presence, but the only response was a wall of silence, interrupted only by the occasional howl of wind through broken panes of glass. If he was still in the barracks, he couldn't have been in this wing of it. She popped her head into each room hoping against hope to see his figure rooting through footlockers in search of supplies, but time and again the only occupants of the rooms, if any, were the long deceased.

Ellie reached the final room in the hallway and peered into it before making her way inside. The windows were blown out, and snow and glass alike gave the floor a shimmering appearance, sparkling as the surface of the sea. She took a few cautious steps into the room, grimacing as an audible crunch rose from each footfall. Thin, ragged curtains fluttered on the chilled breeze coming through the broken window.

She let out an exasperated breath and turned to leave. There were no signs of Joel in any of the empty rooms. She turned down the hall and pushed open a double door into a wide common area. There were doorways across the room leading into different wings of the barracks, and the only light in the room was provided by narrow windows in those doors. Ellie reached up and turned on her flashlight.

The floor was littered with bodies. Some of them had been Infected, and the fungus had begun protruding through the skin and working its way into the floor beneath, not quite ready to germinate yet. Other bodies were decomposed former soldiers, while some fresher ones wore Firefly arm bands.

"Eeeesh…" she remarked, surveying the massacre.

None of the bodies were particularly fresh, perhaps a few months old, a sign that they hadn't been Joel's doing. Ellie crossed the room, carefully placing her steps between limbs and bodies. There was a makeshift medical tent, replete with red cross, erected in one corner. She made a mental note to check for supplies on the way out. She made it to the far door and tugged the handle. The hallway on the other side was a mirror image of the one from which she'd come.

She listened for a moment, but the hallways was frustratingly silent. "C'mon, Joel… where the fuck are you?"

She began checking the rooms anyway. Joel made a point of not making much noise, and there was a chance he was scavenging quietly in one of them. The first four rooms were empty, but she knew before she'd reached the fifth that it was occupied. Labored breathing and moaning came from within, and Ellie sidled up next to the doorway.

I swear to God, Joel, if this is you…

She peered around the corner to find a figure keeled over and occasionally twitching. The rest of the room was clear. She could take this runner out without much trouble. She opened the switchblade and quietly approached the oblivious Infected. When she was within distance, she leapt forward and drove the blade into the side of its head. It crumpled to the ground in a heap and Ellie climbed off of it. She searched the body for anything useful but came up empty.

Finding a lone Infected in one of the rooms meant it was unlikely that Joel had passed this way. It's better to take out a solitary runner than pass by it and be forced to watch your back. She considered turning back to the common area, but decided thoroughness was probably the best course of action.

The rest of the hall was empty as well, and Ellie felt her frustration growing with each vacant room. She turned back after the last room and made for the stairway marked by a door midway down the hall. She scaled both flights of stairs and swung the door open. A billow of spores leapt from the crack in the door, and she let it fall shut again. Joel wouldn't have passed through an area with spores unless he had very good reason to. She stood at the top of the stairs and weighed her options before deciding to turn around and return to the common area.

She carefully crossed the room again, gingerly stepping between bodies, until she reached another door leading to the next hall. It suddenly occurred to her how massive the barracks was. Joel could be anywhere in here, and it could take hours to track him down. She sighed as she pushed the door open.

The next hall looked remarkably similar to the last two, a long corridor lined with doors on each side. Ellie made her way from door to door, methodically checking each room for occupants or supplies. She reached the last room without a sign of life to speak of. What if he had already left while she toiled on, searching every room?

She kicked aside a chunk of debris as she headed back into the hall. She pushed the door to the stairwell open and began trudging up the steps, disappointment increasing with each footfall. She reached the second floor and absently pushed the door open. Another long, doorway-lined hallway.

Irritated with the endless searching, she tried a different tactic. Typically she wouldn't announce her presence, but frustration got the better of her. "Joel?" she called at regular speaking volume. When no answer came, she scoffed and turned toward the end of the hall where a door led into the upper level of the common area.

She hesitated at the door for a moment. There was something in the back of her mind nagging for her attention, but whenever she complied it eluded her. She brushed it off before pressing the crash bar as quietly as possible and inching the door ajar. It opened about a foot before it met unseen resistance on the opposite side. The gap was barely wide enough for her to fit, but she squeezed through.

A broken skylight cast a column of blue light onto the floor in the middle of the room. The corners were still dark, and the rest of the room was dimly illuminated from the broken skylight. Ellie scanned the expanse before her and found it completely empty. There were no figures scattered around the room, and no bodies littering the floor. Just decrepit pieces of furniture and generous amounts of garbage and other debris.

She walked to the middle of the room and stood directly under the column of blue light. She turned a full circle, trying to decide which hallway to check next. She committed to memory the hallway that had been filled with spores as one to avoid. She looked between the other two and picked one on a whim.

She pushed open the door and was overcome by the stench of rotting flesh. It made her stomach turn and even conjured a gag. "Blech… fuck…"

She crossed an arm over her nose and stepped into the hallway. There weren't any decomposing bodies in the hall so the source of the odor must have been in one of the rooms. She pulled her pistol for the sake of caution and began peeking into open doors.

The stench grew more potent the further down the hallway she went, and upon looking into a room near the end of the hall, its source came into view. There were dead bodies strewn around the room. Blood was smeared in long streaks around each one on the floor. She'd seen bodies like these so many times in the last year and a half. They had been ripped apart by Infected, and Ellie noted the spreading patches of white that surrounded the various wounds. They had likely been killed at some point within the last week, and there was enough warmth in the barracks for bacteria to do its thing. Her eyes fell on the Firefly bands on their arms. Turns out there were still a few of them out there after all, though they were undoubtedly thrown in relative disarray by the death of their leader.

She replaced the pistol in its holster and left the bodies and their stench behind her as she again crossed the common area heading for the last hallway. "You better be in here, Joel," she muttered under her breath as she shouldered the door open. It swung aside revealing an empty corridor and Ellie let out an aggravated sigh.

She dragged her feet from room to room. The monotony of repetition was eating away at her resolve, and she found herself less and less motivated in her search. In addition to being fruitless, her time in the barracks had slowly brought memories of the military preparatory school to the front of her mind.

She ambled into one of the rooms and took a seat on the bed. She figured she had earned a moment's rest and unslung her backpack from her shoulders. She opened the zipper and dug through the various items within, her fingers finally finding what they were looking for. She pulled the Firefly tag from the backpack and held it in her palm.

She traced the stamped lettering with her fingertip and turned the tag over in her hand, reminiscing on the first time Riley had showed it to her. She had acted like such an ass. There were so many things from the past that she wished she could take back, but going to the mall that night ranked chief among them. She might still be safely in Boston, just a regular girl instead of the would-be-cure-for-mankind. Riley might still be alive. She might have stayed behind with her.

The memory brought a pang of sorrow that had somehow stoked the coal of anger within her, and she threw the tag bag into her backpack, zipped it up, and put it on. She stood to her feet, shook her head to clear it, and made for the door.

She passed through the doorframe and was blindsided by a figure passing by the door at the exact moment. The impact sent her stumbling to the ground and she extended her arms to break her fall. Panic gripped her as she fell, knowing she was vulnerable and off-guard. Landing on her stomach, she rolled over and pulled her pistol from its holster.

She leveled it at the figure and her eyes narrowed. "You…"

"Ellie…"

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 17**


	17. Chapter 17 - Risk

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, it's been a long time since I updated. What can I say, life has gotten busy with the new job, among other things. In addition, this is a chapter I really wanted to spend time on and get right. So for the delay, I have no further defense.**

**Alright, so begins the climax. I hope you all got something to hold onto, because from here on out, it's gonna be a hell of a ride.**

**Soundtrack choice for this chapter: something emotional from the soundtrack. Maybe "Left Behind" or... yeah, I think "Left Behind" would be a good pick.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 17<strong>

**RISK**

All of the miles. All of the days of slogging through deep snow. All of the freezing nights flirting with frostbite. All of the brushes with death. All of the lives she'd taken. All had led up to this moment. Here, in an frigid barracks inside the abandoned Boise quarantine zone, she had finally found who she was looking for.

He looked haggard, thinner than when she'd last seen him, and exhausted. His beard had grown longer as he seemingly hadn't been keeping an eye on it. He was also wearing a hat and gloves, a look Ellie hadn't seen on him. The combination of these meant that while he was undoubtedly Joel, there was something uncannily different about him. His face bore a stricken expression as he looked at her.

"Wh-... what the hell are you doin' here?" he asked, voice hoarse from disuse.

Ellie holstered her pistol and climbed back to her feet, ignoring his question, then rushed towards him. He opened his arms, expecting her to embrace him. Instead, she drove her palms into his chest, pushing him roughly backwards into the wall. He hit it hard enough to knock a bit of wind out of his lungs.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard!" she yelled as she pushed him into the wall again. He didn't make an attempt to stop her. "What the fuck do you _think_ I'm doing here?"

"Ellie, c'mon, settle down!" he managed to say between impacts with the wall.

"No! Fuck you!" she fumed, pushing him into the wall again. "Do you even realize what you just fucking put me through? What it took to find you? I've been on your goddamn trail since you left." Angry tears started to run down her cheeks as her frustration came to a head. She struck him with her fists, and with each blow to his chest a bit more anger was released. "I almost fucking died trying to find your sorry ass!"

"Look… I'm sor-"

"You're fucking right, you're sorry! You lied to me, Joel!" She finally relented in her physical onslaught, taking a few steps back and shaking her arms to relieve some of the adrenaline. "You fucking lied to me-"

"Ellie…"

"-and you know what the worst part of it is?" she said, her voice breaking. She didn't wait for him to venture a guess. "You promised me - _promised_ me - that you'd never lie to me again. Do you remember that? Huh? Or did it slip your fucking mind?"

"I didn't-"

"I remember. I _remember_, Joel," she said weakly as tears continued to trickle from her eyes, "I remember. Last winter I remember you saying you'd never make me go outside during a snowstorm again, but what do you know? I trudged through one to fucking get here. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?

"I remember waking up alone one night after that whole goddamn ordeal with that... man-eating fuckhead. I thought you had left me, and you told me, and I quote, 'that will never happen.' Yet here we are. You _lied_ to me."

"Ellie, I didn't have a choice…"

She looked at him incredulously for a long moment. "Bullshit, Joel. You always have a choice."

"I… I had to leave…" he said helplessly.

"No you didn't!" she spat. "You _chose_ to leave. Did you even think about me when you made that decision?"

"Of course-"

"You're so fucking selfish."

That comment had gone too far for his taste. "Selfish!? For once in my goddamn life, I try to do something that isn't-"

"And you didn't even say goodbye. You just up and fucking vanished!" she put her hands on her hips, still breathing rapidly. She glared at him for a moment before her anger rekindled. She lunged forward to shove him against the wall once more. This time, he caught her hands and subdued her. She struggled against him, but he was too strong. "Fucking… let go of me! Motherfucker!"

"Not 'til you calm down!" he shouted. "Look… I know you're pissed. You got every right to be." She continued thrashing until she had exhausted herself. Once she had stopped fighting, he held her at arm's length and looked at her. She shrugged out of his grasp and backed away.

"Well? Go on, then. Explain yourself," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, giving him an expectant look. "Why? Why did you lie? Why did you leave?"

He stood and looked her over for the first time since they'd run into each other. She was wrapped up in winter gear and looked tired but otherwise fairly healthy. She must have been keeping herself well-fed. He noticed a gash on her side in the fabric of her coat, surrounded by a dark stain that could only be dried blood.

"Jesus… are you alright?" he asked.

She followed his gaze to her side, then looked back up at him. "I'm fine. Answer the question."

He gave a long sigh, unsure of how to answer. He knew his reasons, but couldn't figure out how to put them into words. "You wouldn't understand…"

"Try me," she replied in deadpan.

"I… I left to keep you safe…"

She blinked. "What?"

He searched for the words to say that wouldn't make his reasoning sound absurd. "I trusted Tommy and Maria to look after you. I had to keep you safe. Safe from _me_. Ellie… everyone in my life… everyone who I've let myself get close to… everyone I've cared about… they're… they're gone." The incredulity in her gaze grew with every word. "I couldn't let that happen to you… so, at first, I put a gun to my head…" Her eyes widened a bit at that. "But, coward that I am, I couldn't pull the trigger. So I did the only thing I could think of. I left..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You don't understand. Their deaths are on me," he continued, undeterred. "I couldn't have you sharing the same fate. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you..."

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head slightly. "Joel… that is such bullshit. For so many reasons. First off, you can't blame yourself for their deaths-"

"Why the hell not?" he snapped. "As I recall, you've made it something of a habit yourself. I _know_ you blame yourself for Riley's death-"

"Don't you fucking dare bring her name into this-"

"-not to mention Tess's... and Sam's."

"Yeah, and do you remember what you told me? 'None of that is on you.' And you were right. None of that is on you, Joel!"

"Look…" he began, clumsily trying to put words to his reasoning. His gaze danced over the floor at her feet, unable to meet her eyes. "The last three girls - er, women or whatever - in my life that… that I cared about… they're dead, okay? I don't know about you, but to me that constitutes a pattern, and you know what the common thread is? It only follows to assume that you're the next-"

"That is so fucking stupid," she interrupted through a half-chuckle. "Joel, the universe hasn't put some… fucking... cosmic curse on you. That's just the shit world we live in. People die! There's no escaping it! It's gonna happen to me someday, too, you know..."

"Not on account of me, it ain't," he muttered.

"Regardless of your actions, it's gonna happen. Your daughter's death was not your fault, Joel!" she shouted. "Neither was Tess's, and neither was Lakyn's. You have got to get that through your thick head. They all died because we live in a fucked-up, unforgiving world. Don't use that as an excuse to shut out the one person who'd follow you through hell to bring you back." She stared at him silently. "Get your shit. We're going home."

"I can't do that."

Her frustration came bubbling to the surface again. "Well, I'm not going back alone, so... where are we going?"

"Ellie-"

"Just fucking save it," she snapped. "I didn't come all this way for nothing, and you're not getting rid of me. So here's how it's gonna play out: either we go back to Jackson together, or I follow you to wherever you're heading. Your call."

He sighed and gave her a long, hard look. "You won't be safe with me."

She rolled her eyes. "Uh, hello? Look around. It's never fucking safe."

He stared at her in tense silence, unsure of where to steer the argument. "So, what, did you come all this way just to yell and hit me and tell me I'm a fuckin' idiot?"

Her eyes narrowed, dangerously this time. "I came all this way to bring you back," she retorted, voice starting to break once more as the tears of frustration returned. "To where you belong."

"And where's that?"

"With me, goddammit."

He could barely withstand looking at her in that moment. Her expression was a devastating combination of heartbreak, anger, and desperation. He felt his resolve start to waver. Looking at her now, he wanted to acquiesce, to go with her back to Jackson, back to their life together.

But he remembered the vision of her slight frame riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood. _This is your fault_. She deserved better than him, better than to die because of his self-centered desires. She had to live, and that meant he had to stay far away.

"I can't-"

"Joel. You're stuck with me. On that, you don't have a choice."

He was silent again, trying to find a way out of the situation. "I'm sorry, I can't…"

"What's your plan then?" she asked coarsely. "Are you gonna knock me out and run? You know I'll just track you down again. If you wanna get rid of me, you're gonna have to fucking kill me."

"Listen-"

"No, you listen! I told you once that everyone I had ever cared about had either died or left me. Do you remember that? In the past, I just sat idly by and let that happen because I thought there was nothing I could do to change it. I could have stayed in Jackson… you know that, right? I could have stayed there... where I'd be warm and well-fed and wouldn't have to look over my shoulder at every second... but I fucking didn't.

"I woke up that morning on our bed, freezing my ass off, all alone. You were nowhere to be found. Then Tommy and Maria gave me the news, and you know what I did? I said 'fuck this, this is _not_ happening again!' and I took off after you... immediately-"

"Why couldn't you just stay with them?" he asked, though the question was more rhetorical than anything else.

She scoffed. "Fuck, have you even been listening? I can't believe you need to even ask that question…"

A strained silence stretched between the two of them for a long time. Ellie fidgeted as she pondered how she could convince him to come home with her, while Joel searched uncomfortably for a way to express himself. The pause gave Ellie's temper time to cool off a few degrees.

"Look, you mean too… I care about y-" he fumbled with his words, unsure of how to properly assemble the sentence he was going for. "Goddammit. I just can't… if something were to happen to you, I… I wouldn't be able to…"

"I know what you're trying to say," she said plainly. He gave her a questioning stare. "Awhile back... you remember when I ran away to that ranch house? The second time, I mean. Well, on the way back with Tommy, uh... well, he told me-" she paused as her heart crept into her throat. She tried to continue on that thought, but was unable to. "Anyways, I know what you're trying to say, and... _that's_ what brought me here, Joel. You're not the only one who feels that way. I... I'd be miser-... I _was_ miserable without you... when you left, I..."

"So you can understand why I'd do whatever it took to keep you safe? Even if it meant leavin'?"

She shrugged. "Yeah... and… and no. Difference is that I'm not so afraid of losing something that I'm not gonna try to have it. Life is too short and too fucking fragile to live that way. So… I'm not leaving without you. Now will you _please_ come back with me?"

"I… ugh…" he let an aggravated sigh and put his hands on his hips as he turned and walked a few paces away from her. He stared at the cold linoleum for a moment before turning back to face her. "I want to say yes… Ellie, I really do… but…"

"But what?" she asked, pleading as her eyes sparkled with the beginning of tears yet again.

"I can't… I'm sorry, but I can't… I just have this… this bad feelin' that if I do… it's gonna end with you dea-"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, Joel."

"Well, I'm not…"

The tears overcame her best efforts and burst over her eyelids. Her frustration followed suit. "Oh for fuck's… you know what? Fine! Fine, then! Fuck you!" she spat venomously. She turned away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes, and ran for the double doors to the commons.

"Ellie…" he replied as he watched her go. He hesitated, looking deep within himself in search of the answer. Then, without fanfare, he found it. "Ellie, wait!" He took off after her.

She was running, pushing past furniture through angry tears and sobs, to the one place she knew he couldn't follow without putting on a gasmask. The hallway with spores. He had just reached the commons area when her hands met the handle of the hall.

"Ellie, don't!" he shouted.

But it was too late. She flung the door wide and went to step inside, but she stopped short. An indeterminate amount of eyes turned to look at her. They stared, blank and listless, for a moment before becoming fervent with rage. She backed away in shock.

"Oh fuck…"

"Run!" Joel shouted. "Get out of there!"

She turned and ran towards the man from whom she had been running seconds earlier. Her last hope.

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 18**


	18. Chapter 18 - Clear

**A/N: Getting closer to the end. Ohhhh boy. Writing this chapter and drawing the parallels was an enjoyable experience. I think there's a lot of significance in the parallels themselves that will become more clear once chapter 19 is released. Oh, I originally said I was going to post chapter 18 and 19 at the same time. I have changed my mind on that, as I found a different way to conclude this chapter that wouldn't necessitate releasing chapter 19 simultaneously. I honestly think the last two chapters will contain some of my best work, and as such, FAIR WARNING, I might take longer to write them. It might be a week or two until their online. There might be a significant wait until chapter 20, as I want to wrap up the project that's going to be released with it before I post it. So please be patient and take heart that this story WILL conclude. If there's a long stretch between the final chapters, it's because I'm committed to getting them perfect because I know that's what you're all expecting.**

**In other news, I need to buy a PS4 so that I can get The Last of Us: Remastered. That's going to be a gorgeous sight to behold, that's for sure. Can't wait!**

**Soundtrack choice for this chapter: something intense. Probably "Head Rush" from the soundtrack volume 2.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 18<strong>

**CLEAR**

Run. In that moment, the only command her brain was giving her body was to run. To run for her life. All of the overwhelming emotions of what had just happened moments before got pushed to the back of her mind, and the instinct of flight took over. Run.

Her ears were ringing from the gunshots, but she ignored the high-pitched whine and focused on sprinting to the door. Something on the floor caught her eye, but in her haste it didn't register what it was. Just run. Her hands met the handle and she pushed it open, her companion just beside her.

On the other side, she looked for anything she could push in front of the door to block it. There was an old clothing bin nearby and the two of them ran toward it.

"Barricade the door!" Riley yelled.

The two of them pushed the bin against it. The music from the next room blared on, indifferent to its audience. Ellie stared at the wheeled bin. There was no way it would hold. The Infected would be through in no time. She felt something grabbing at her arm.

"This way," Riley called. "Ellie!"

She turned from the bin to follow Riley when the objects she had seen on the floor flashed before her mind. "What about our backpacks?"

"Fuck the backpacks!"

She vaulted over an obstacle and ran after Riley, who was approaching an open door. Just as she reached it, an Infected appeared in the opening, and Ellie's heart nearly leapt out of her chest in fear for Riley's safety.

"Oh shit!"

Riley slammed the door shut and barred it with a discarded mannequin arm. It didn't look like it would hold for very long. They had to get out of there, and fast. Riley gestured toward a nearby roll-up door.

* * *

><p>"Joel!"<p>

A burst of light erupted from the end of his revolver as it fired, and she heard the bullets tearing the air as they passed and dove into the Infected on her heels. She looked up at him, and in his eyes saw true fear. It was a look she had only seen a handful of times while with him, but most often when she was in danger. He really _did_ love her.

"Ellie, c'mon, this way!" he called as he began backpedaling toward the nearest door.

She ran, not bothering to look back. From the sound of screams and moans, she could gather that there were more than a handful of Infected behind her. Joel had reached the door. She saw him turn the handle and try to swing it open, but it hadn't budged.

"Shit…" he muttered, turning back to face the oncoming wave.

"Here, move, move, move!" she yelled as she approached.

Joel moved to the side and fired into the pack of Infected again. She drew her pistol and leveled it at the lock on the door. _Please let this work._ She pulled the trigger, grimacing as she braced for the worst. The gun fired, and the cylinder popped free and fell clattering to the floor.

"C'mon!" she yelled back at Joel.

He fired the revolver's last round and followed her through the door, swinging out the cylinder to reload as he ran, a talent he had become rather good at over the course of their time together. She listened for the familiar cadence of each round being dropped into their chambers, followed by the audible click of the cylinder moving back into place.

He was right on her heels, and turned back to fire into the Infected that had begun pouring through the doorway. Ellie's shoes slipped on the linoleum as she rounded the corner for the stairwell, sending her sprawling to the ground. Joel was beside her in an instant.

"I'm good, go, go, go!" she yelled as she climbed back to her feet.

Joel threw his shoulder into the door of the stairwell.

* * *

><p>"Ellie, you with me?" Riley called from ahead of her, turning back to check.<p>

"Yeah, I-I'm right behind you! Keep running!"

They sprinted down the long hallway, which quickly came to a dead-end. There was a small crawlspace under a fallen piece of ductwork, and Riley ducked and crawled through. Ellie crouched down to follow her when she felt her feet being pulled out from under her. She hit the cement hard, skinning her palms and kneecaps, and felt something tugging on her leg.

She rolled over to her back and clambered away on her elbows. An Infected was clawing at her legs, trying to bring itself within biting distance. She looked into its eyes and saw an empty madness, a fungal-driven insanity overpowering the host's control.

"Oh, fuck!" she continued to struggle against it, but it was getting closer. She managed to wriggle her right leg free and planted a kick directly into its face. "Get off!" She planted two more kicks before the creature fell still, loosening its grip on her leg. "Oh fu…"

Gunshots rang out from behind her as she scrambled to her feet. "Stay back!" It was Riley. She spun to look just as Riley was blindsided by an Infected. Ellie pulled the switchblade from her back pocket and sprinted towards the struggle. She again felt the grip of fear tighten around her heart at the sight of Riley inches from being bitten.

She reached them and leapt onto the back of the Infected. "Oh, you fuck!" she cried as she began stabbing it in the shoulders and neck. She kept stabbing until she felt the creature crumpling beneath her. Blood sprayed from the gashes and onto her arms, staining them red. She kept stabbing, planting final blows to the creature's head and neck for good measure.

"Wow," Riley remarked, genuinely impressed with Ellie's ferocity.

Ellie looked down at the Infected, feeling no small amount of pride at her accomplishment. "Alright!"

* * *

><p>She followed Joel down the stairs onto the landing. He grabbed the railing and swung around to the next flight, then flailed to stop his momentum. Ellie looked past him and saw Infected coming through the door at the bottom of the stairs.<p>

"Shit. Infected!"

"We're trapped!" she cried.

"I see that!"

Ellie looked between the two flights. "I've got upstairs, you've got down. We're gonna have to fight our way out!"

"Yeah!" he yelled between gunshots.

She looked up the stairs and saw a group of runners pouring through the door. As far as she could tell, it was just runners. No clickers or bloaters. Yet, anyway. She leveled the .32 and emptied a clip into the oncoming group. Two of them fell, causing the others to stumble over the limp bodies and crash down the stairs.

Ellie darted forward and drove the switchblade into each head before reloading the pistol. She looked over at Joel, who was still firing into the Infected coming from downstairs. There was a clicker in their midst, but he directed a few shots into the gaps in its fungal plating and it fell to the ground, convulsing wildly.

She turned her attention back to the upper level as more runners burst through the door. She emptied her other clip, only taking out a couple of them. That was it for pistol ammo, and she swung the rifle off of her back. She managed to get one shot off before two runners reached her.

She darted under the arms of one, slashing out with her switchblade as it passed. She caught the creature's side with the blade, but the quillion caught on its clothing and she felt the knife slip from her grasp. She suddenly felt naked without her only close-range weapon, and turned back instinctually to look for it.

The second runner hit her at full-speed, knocking her to the ground.

* * *

><p>She leapt onto the scaffolding, clinging to the plank at the top as she began hoisting herself up. Something was wrong. Something <em>felt<em> wrong. She looked up at Riley and saw her falling away from her. No, Riley wasn't falling. The lurch in her stomach told her that it was her who was falling.

"Oh god!"

"Give me your hand!" Riley shouted.

Ellie reached out to her, but it was useless. She was several feet away at this point, and she felt herself slipping off of the scaffolding. Suddenly, she was weightless, suspended in midair as she fell. She hit the scaffolding from which she had leapt, the impact sending a shot of pain through her side, and then she was falling again.

The fall seemed to last for an eternity and time slowed down while she hung there, slowly rotating in the morning light. She landed on her back in a puddle, and the air was forced from her lungs as she collided with the ground. The pain was immense as it coursed through her body, spreading out from her back and side in searing branches.

"Ellie!" Riley called from somewhere far above her.

Ellie began to pick herself up while desperately sucking air into her lungs. She lifted her eyes in time to see a runner diving at her. She held out her hands to halt its approach, but it outweighed her and began to overpower her.

"No, no, no! Get off!"

She thrust her forearm into its neck as it tried to lock its jaws onto her face. It began snapping at her, and it took all the strength she could muster to keep its teeth away. One small bite and she was dead. Its snapping jaws drew ever closer, and she saw her short life flash before her eyes. This was the end. She was terrified.

"Riley!" she screamed in desperation.

She caught a glimpse of another runner heading her direction, but it crumpled to the ground after two loud pops. The runner on top of her was still frantically trying to bite her. Suddenly its head snapped back and gun appeared next to it.

* * *

><p>The impact sent her toppling into the cement wall. Her head struck it first, blurring her vision and putting everything onto a teetering, uneasy plane. She tried desperately to regain her bearings, but her head was swimming. The runner was on top of her, and her brain sent out an order, instructing her arms to hold it off. In her befuddled condition, the order arrived too late.<p>

She cried out as a crescent of pain sliced into her shoulder. Her eyes drifted and saw the runner's jaws latched onto the flesh covering her shoulder joint. She thrashed against the creature, pushing it off of her as its jaws came free. The runner she had slashed in the side took the other's place and fell upon her.

Her mind was still pulling itself out of its stupor, and every movement felt like her limbs were swimming through pudding. With failing strength she threw her arms into the creature, hoping to hold it at bay. Her right arm felt weak from the damage the bite had inflicted. The runner was winning the battle, and the second one would be on her again in no time. This was the end. She was terrified.

"Joel!"

A blur streaked across her vision as Joel's boot struck the runner in the head, sending it sprawling backward. He grabbed the other Infected and pulled it off of her, landing several heavy blows to its head. Ellie tried to pick herself up, straining against her clouded mind and weakened shoulder.

Suddenly, another runner threw itself into Joel and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

* * *

><p>"Quickly! Get up!" Riley instructed, holding her hand out to Ellie.<p>

Before she could grab it, another runner arrived and fell upon Riley, tackling her to the ground. Ellie scrambled to her feet, ignoring the odd pinching sensation on her forearm. The runner was on top of Riley, feverishly trying to tear her throat out as she pushed its face away.

"Riley!"

She sprinted toward her, switchblade at the ready. A steadfast determination took root within her, and a fierce sense of protectiveness drove her on. She was not going to let this stray Infected kill the only person she truly cared about. The only person she truly loved.

She drove the switchblade into the Infected's back. It was undeterred. "Get…" She went for a more direct approach, pulling back the runner's head and burying the blade in its throat.

* * *

><p>"Joel!"<p>

Her eyes darted across the ground, finally falling upon the gleaming metal of the switchblade. She snatched it and turned back to Joel. He had two runners on him, but was fighting ferociously, swinging fists and elbows with abandon.

She threw herself onto one of them, latching onto its back and driving the switchblade into the vital junctions of its body. It stood upright and threw itself backwards into the wall, crushing the air from her lungs. She kept up her assault, finally driving the switchblade into the side of its head.

She looked up in time to see Joel stave in the face of the last runner.

* * *

><p>She looked up from the runner whose throat she had just slit wide open. No movement. She strained her ears. No telltale screams or shrieks. They had done it. They were alive.<p>

"I think it's clear…" she said tentatively, still breathing deeply as the adrenaline continued buzzing through her veins. Still no movement. Still no sound. It was clear.

"Ellie," she heard Riley say quietly. "Ellie, your arm."

The pinching sensation came rushing back to the front of her mind, having been pushed aside when their lives were in danger. She looked down at her right arm, still holding the blood-covered switchblade. Long, meandering trails of blood were streaming down her forearm and onto her hand, originating from two matching crescent-shaped wounds. She stared at the bite mark blankly, unsure if it was indeed there. She felt her hand loosen and heard the vague sound of the switchblade rattling as it hit the ground.

She ran her palm over the wound, expecting it to disappear. The blood had to have come from somewhere else. It couldn't be hers. It just couldn't be. Her palm passed over the wound without erasing it. The teeth marks were still there, and fresh blood welled up to replace the blood she had wiped away.

"No…" she whimpered. She ran her palm over the wound again and again. Surely, one of these times the wound would disappear. "No, no, no, no, no…" It was still there. Fresh trails of blood began flowing whenever she wiped the previous ones away.

She was bitten. She was dead.

* * *

><p>The stairwell was quiet. She looked around at the bodies on the ground. She and Joel had dispatched several Infected, and both flights of stairs were littered with their bodies. She took stock of her wounds.<p>

The thick coat had prevented the bite on her shoulder from being too severe, and given her immunity she would recover just fine. She'd just have a fresh, bumpy scar to show off to no one. They were alive. That was all that mattered.

"I think it's clear…" she said tentatively. Joel was standing behind her catching his breath. "Joel? You good?"

He let out a deep breath before replying. "Afraid not…"

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III WILL CONTINUE<strong>

**WITH CHAPTER 19**


	19. Chapter 19 - Severed

**Author's note follows in Post Script.**

**Soundtrack choice: "All Gone (Reunion)" "All Gone (Alone)" "All Gone (No Escape)"**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 19<strong>

**SEVERED**

In an instant, in the breadth of two simple words, everything in her life had come to a grinding halt. She found herself in the midst of the most devastating case of deja vu she could recall. The dream and all of its horrors came flooding back at once. The bite. The bullet. The loneliness.

She turned to face him, gathering the strength to look upon her doomed protector. She fully expected him to be slumped against the wall pressing a rag to his neck, but to her surprise found him standing, holding his left hand before his face. The blank look in his eyes spoke of stern disbelief.

"Oh Christ…"

She ran over to him. "Let me see it!" She took his weathered palm between hers to examine the bite. Her breath shuddered unevenly from her lungs as her heart skipped several beats. She had seen the exact same wound once before. It was a perfect recreation of the bite that had stolen Riley from her. Blood was seeping from the tooth mark incisions, painting Ellie's fingers a dark red.

She stepped back, unable to pry her eyes from the bite. _Not again. This can't be happening again._ "No..." she whispered. "No, no, no..."

Her mind raced. This couldn't be happening again. This _wouldn't_ happen again. "No," she repeated firmly. She scoured her brain for a solution as a steady anger began to simmer within her. Surely there must be some way for Joel to come out of this alive. There _had_ to be. She wasn't going to let the world steal another loved one from her.

"Ellie..." Joel started.

"Shhh!"

He sighed. "Ellie, listen to me-"

"I said shut the fuck up!" she snapped, regretting how hostile it sounded. "There's a way out of this... somehow... there... there has to be..." Her eyes flitted from the bite to the floor to the growing expression of resignation on Joel's face.

"C'mon, now, you know that ain't true..."

"Yes it fucking is, just... give me a second."

"Ellie..."

She waved him off, closed her eyes and concentrated. Images began flashing before her mind as the memories streamed by. Ellis. The name popped into her mind. Why did that sound so familiar? Of what significance was it to her?

Suddenly, she was stooped over her backpack in the snow-ridden atrium of the Colorado Mountain Plaza. There was a torn sheet of stained legal pad paper in her freezing hands. Her eyes danced over the hastily written note. The howl of wind and an ominous groan resonated somewhere overhead as the helicopter teetered precariously on its perch. Nearby, a dull glint flickered off of the surgical saw lying on the floor in a pool of dried blood. A severed arm was lashed to the rail of a gurney next to the saw.

Then, she was crouching in a cold metal air vent, following a smeared blood trail along its mazelike path. The decomposed body of a one-armed man sat slumped in the corner. The body showed no signs of post-mortem fungal growth. She remembered the scratchy sound of the voice on the recorder, how he had died from bleeding out. Not from infection. This was Ellis.

She opened her eyes. She knew what she had to do. She could fix this. She could at least give Joel a fighting chance. But she had to act quickly; time was of the essence.

"Follow me! And keep your arm at your side! Don't fucking lift it!" she called as she turned and descended the flight of stairs to the first level, hopping over the bodies of slain Infected as she went.

Joel rubbed his brow. She was delusional. A bite meant death. Everyone knew that. "Ellie-"

"Joel, just fucking do it!"

He sighed and complied, trying to keep up with her as she bolted toward the common area on the first floor. She ran on ahead, pushing through the double doors and into the expansive room. He followed, enthusiasm waning, and swung open the door in time to see her duck into the medical tent in the corner of the room.

"Hey! Over here! Fucking move!" she yelled, waving him over.

He rounded the flap of the tent to find her rummaging through drawers in a desperate search. She looked over at him and jerked her head in the direction of the gurney in the middle of the tent.

"Sit."

He slumped his shoulders and did as he was told, hopping up to sit on the gurney. This all seemed so pointless; a terrible and unfulfilling way to spend their final moments together. "What are we doin' here?" he asked.

She didn't turn around as she rummaged through the drawers and cabinets. "Saving your fucking life. Take off your backpack and coat… and then give me your arm… the bad one." She turned to face him, holding a long, narrow strap in her arm. Joel bore a look of profound confusion, but set the pack and coat down by his side and reached the arm out to her. She wrapped the strap around it, midway up his forearm and several inches above the bite.

"Whaddaya mean, 'savin' my life'?" he asked incredulously as she grabbed a metal pipe from the floor. "Ellie… I'm done-"

"Just… trust me, okay?" she replied as she wrapped each end of the strap around the pipe and tied it. "I can fix this." She grabbed the pipe by its ends and rotated it, pulling the strap tighter around Joel's arm, forming a makeshift tourniquet.

He blew a deep breath through his nostrils as the pain built up in the arm, then turned to look at her. No harm in letting her hold onto her shred of hope. He couldn't bear to steal it away. "Okay."

She instructed him to grab the pipe with his free hand. "Hold this in place. Do you have any medical supplies?" She didn't wait for a reply before she began tugging open his pack. She opened it and found the fully-stocked first aid kit. "C'mon…" she whispered before lifting the lid. A complete suture set. Clean rags. A bottle of alcohol and disinfectant. A syringe, still in its packaging. And most incredibly, a couple of large field doses of morphine. "Fuck yes!"

She moved over to his right side and motioned for him to lie down. He obeyed, taking care as not to snag the end of the pipe on anything. She focused hard, conjuring the memories of her training in the infirmary back in Boston. Too large of dose and Joel might never wake up. Too small of dose and it wouldn't knock him out. What she was about to do necessitated him being unconscious. She couldn't have him struggling about, writhing in pain as she worked. She ran the numbers in her head twice before settling on a dosage.

"Right..." she said as she brought the syringe next to his arm. She exhaled deeply and turned to look at him. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Joel turned his head to meet her gaze. The fear in his eyes sent tremors of doubt through every inch of her body. As he looked at her, shivering and frightened but with a fierce determination on her face, he realized how afraid he was of death and of losing her. He had spent the last number of weeks running away from her, afraid of what collateral damage she might sustain on his account, but now he couldn't bear the thought of being parted from her forever.

He nodded. A pinch of pain sprang up from his arm as the needle entered. It wasn't long before a wave of calming numbness and vague euphoria started spreading over him. He felt his eyelids growing heavy as the morphine began to push him into unconsciousness. He had little time.

Ellie moved to his other side and took hold of the pipe. He turned to her and started to speak, words slurred as the drug took effect. "Ellie… if I don't… I just w-want… you... to…" He was unable to finish his thought before slipping away.

She sniffed back tears as she looked down at him. "I know, Joel… I know… I lo-" the words caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. She ran a sleeve over both eyes to clear them, then took hold of the pipe again.

She torqued it as tight as she could manage, satisfied that circulation had been completely cut off. The lower part of Joel's left arm was already turning a disconcerting shade of red. She hoped she had done it in time. She fastened the free end of the pipe to his upper arm to maintain the tourniquet pressure, then turned to the cabinet nearby.

She pulled the surgical saw from the cabinet and held it up to the light. It had remained in remarkably good condition due to the high quality of the steel, and she set it on the counter to disinfect it. When she finished, she took several deep breaths to steady herself, then turned back to face the impromptu operating table.

_Don't worry… I've done this before. I'm kind of an expert… -ish._

But that wasn't the case this time. She had never removed a limb. Sure, they had covered it in class at the preparatory school. It was standard military medical triage. But she had never seen it done in person. The mere thought of it made her hands shake violently. The thought of doing it _herself_ made her legs go weak and trembling.

She dragged herself to the far side of the table. It was imperative that she did this as quickly as possible. She'd have to sew up the wound before Joel lost too much blood. She couldn't exactly give him a transfusion with her own, given that it was likely teeming with the infection.

"Okay… you can do this… you can do this, Ellie…"

She brought the teeth of the saw closer to the sanguine flesh of Joel's arm, trying feebly to keep her hands from shaking. She touched the blade to his skin and lost her nerve, pulling away and letting out a few involuntary sobs. She couldn't do this. How could anyone expect her to do this?

"Fuck!" she screamed in frustration.

She looked back at the unconscious figure lying on the table. She was his last hope. She pushed the emotions back and brought to blade to flesh again. She sucked her teeth and tried to put pressure on the blade, but her limbs refused to comply. She pulled the saw away again as the feelings of inadequacy took root.

This wasn't fair. How could she be expected to go through with this? There was no other choice. Still, she couldn't bring herself to move back to the table. She was frozen in place. This was too big of a burden for her small shoulders to bear. But there was no other choice. She brought her free hand up and drove her fingers into her eyes. She couldn't _do_ this.

"Just stay calm. Stay calm…"

She took several deep breaths to calm herself back down. Joel needed her now more than ever. If she wasn't able to do this, he was dead. There was no turning back. A calming presence manifested itself around her, and suddenly she wasn't alone.

"We fight…" Riley said over her shoulder, "for every second we get to spend with each other… whether it's two minutes... or two days… we don't give that up. I don't want to give that up."

Ellie opened her eyes and looked down at Joel again. She lifted the saw and clutched it in both hands. She felt a well of determination spring up anew within her. This was her chance to change the course of fate. The world was not going to take someone from her again. Not like this.

_I can do this. Hold on, Joel._ She brought the blade to his flesh once again. She mustered all of the strength and resolve she could, put pressure down on the saw, and began moving it back and forth.

"I'm not letting you go…" she whimpered as the tears began to fall again. "I'm n-n-not letting you g-g-go…"

* * *

><p>She tied off the last suture and took a step back, reaching up a sleeve to wipe her brow. She had done it. She looked down at herself, cringing at her ghastly appearance. Her sleeves and the front of her coat were caked in Joel's blood, her hands nearly black in the dimming light. She found a rag to clean them before starting to apply a bandage to Joel's arm, which now ended midway below the elbow.<p>

Her mind wandered as she worked on dressing the wound. The procedure had been an absolute nightmare, quite possibly the most difficult thing she'd ever done. She had needed to stop several times to clear her head and the tears from her eyes. When the arm had come free, she lost herself again, unable to look at the severed appendage. But she had forced down the sobs and nausea and willed herself to continue, trying to detach her mind from the moorings of the present.

It had helped to remove herself from what she was doing. It hadn't been Joel, the person she cared about more than anything, on the table. It had been just another patient, just an arm that needed field amputation. She had to take emotion off of the table, metaphorically speaking, if she expected to complete the task while retaining control of her faculties.

She tied off the bandage and braced herself against the table as another bout of lightheadedness rolled past. To her relief, Joel hadn't stirred during the procedure. She had checked his pulse and breathing more times than she could count, and did so once again. The pulse was still there, weak as it was, and his chest rose and fell, albeit slowly. He was holding on, but only time would tell for how long. Field amputation tended to have a high mortality rate.

She went to the other side of the gurney, dragged up a nearby stool and perched herself atop it, clutching her knees to her chest. She was absolutely exhausted from the trauma and exertion of the amputation, her fatigue only made worse by the mental and emotional stress coupled with prolonged sobbing.

She stared at him, watching the steady cadence of his breathing. All that was left was to wait. He would undoubtedly develop a fever as his body fought to heal from the loss of blood and a limb. She should know within two days whether the amputation had cleared him of the cordyceps or not. She shuddered at the thought of having to put him down after having gone through all of that in a fruitless effort to save him.

"You're gonna make it, Joel," she told him. "You hear me?"

She reached out and took his hand. She knew from experience how taxing the wait would be. Her mind drifted to her last hours with Riley, to the moment when she knew something was different. Riley's condition had grown worse by the minute, while her own had stayed the same. The acute feeling of helplessness she had experienced as she watched her best friend deteriorate before her eyes became palpable once again as she sat by Joel's side, hoping he'd pull through.

The hours dragged on and darkness eventually snuffed out the last hint of light from the common area. Ellie didn't dare think of sleeping with Joel in such critical condition, but she grabbed a nearby thermal blanket and sidled herself into position next to him on the gurney so that she could monitor his breathing. She spread the blanket over the both of them, pressed her ear to his chest, and listened to his faint heartbeat and the lethargic inhale and exhale of breath.

"I remember sitting with you on the riverbank… last spring…" she said, trying to keep herself awake. "You asked me what I was most afraid of. I don't think I ever told you.

"I used to think it was just… you know… fear of being alone… being by myself… fear of being abandoned... but… I don't know if that was really the truth. I think I was most afraid that, if I was by myself, I wouldn't be able to survive on my own." She paused in pensive reminiscence, looking back on all that she had accomplished in solitude. "But… now that I know I can, I think… I think it's loss… just like you...

"You have to make it through this. I came way too far for you to die on me now, Joel. So, you're going to pull through, alright? You're going to fucking pull through. I need you to fight for me, okay?"

She took the continued rhythm of his pulse and breathing as an adequate response and nuzzled into his side. The exhaustion was oppressive, constantly weighing down each of her breaths and making it a struggle to stay awake. The next few hours were crucial to Joel's survival, and she couldn't afford to let them pass in sleep. He wouldn't be out of the woods for a long time.

She ate as much food as she felt she could keep down, hoping it would give her some energy. Through it all, she stayed by his side, refusing to leave the gurney for more than a few seconds at a time. She waited, checked his vitals periodically, and tried to devise creative ways of keeping herself alert.

The morphine would probably wear off sometime soon, but it was anyone's guess if Joel would wake up from the pain or stay asleep as his body worked at laboriously healing itself. She decided that at first light, she'd give him another dose, but smaller this time. Enough to let him sleep peacefully.

Hours crawled by, and she wallowed in apprehension while waiting for the faint blue light of early dawn. Mercifully, it came, giving vague definition to everything in the room. It took Ellie's eyes awhile to adjust after seeing nothing but blackness for the past several hours.

She slid off of the gurney and moved around it to check the dressing on Joel's arm. There were blotches of red where blood had seeped through, but it wasn't completely saturated, which was a good sign. She removed the dressing, cleaned the sutured flesh, and applied a fresh bandage. As she was finishing up, Joel began to stir.

"Joel?" she said, leaning over him. She put a hand to his forehead. The skin was febrile, as to be expected. He started groaning in discomfort, becoming increasingly agitated, and she moved to his good side quickly to administer more of the morphine.

She gave him the reduced dosage, and he gradually eased back into a peaceful state once again. She relaxed a bit and listened to his breathing. She gave her best efforts to soothe him, though she wondered if it was more for her sake than for his. She stretched out next to him again, planting her ear against his ribcage.

At first, she thought she was imagining things, but then a tenacious fear started to creep in as the minutes passed. His pulse was getting weaker. His breathing was getting slower. What if she had gotten the dosage wrong?

She rolled onto her knees and laid her head on the middle of his chest. The heartbeat was nearly undetectable now. _What have I done?_ A few seconds later, the heartbeat was gone. She crossed her hands and placed them over his heart, putting her full weight into the compressions.

"Don't fucking do this to me, Joel… don't do this, please… c'mon! Joel!" Tears fell from her cheeks, scattering dark spots onto his shirt. She continued the chest compressions, taking momentary pauses to listen for a response. "C'mon, Joel! Stay with me! Please, stay with me! Please… d-... don't go…"

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERMATH: PART III AND<br>THE AFTERMATH SERIES  
>WILL CONCLUDE WITH CHAPTER 20<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know how fond you all are of cliffhangers, so I saved the big kahuna of them all for my last opportunity to drop one on you. Now, before you start belly-aching at me, know this: I've had this near-exact ending scenario planned out for a LONG time. This isn't just a cliffhanger for cliffhangers's'ses... sake.**

**There were stretches of this chapter where I actually got pretty emotional, to an extent I haven't experienced in the series yet. Imagining Ellie trying to bring herself to cut off Joel's arm was emotionally draining. I can't even fathom how difficult that would have been.**

**I can hardly believe myself that we've come to the final chapter. It's surreal. This has been an absolutely amazing experience for me, and I always look forward to reading every review I get, even/especially the critical ones. I'm going to give a lot more of my eloquent thoughts in a long debriefing at the end of the final chapter, so I'll spare you those now. I will probably include my author's note in post script again next chapter, as I know you'll be just dying to get to the resolution of the cliffhanger.**

**Oh, and if those medical professionals out there find some discrepancies in this chapter... I tried to do my research, but I'm no trauma surgeon. So sue me.**

**(Shout out to the person or two who called what happened in this chapter in the reviews from the last one. Kudos.)**


	20. Chapter 20 - Epilogue

**Author's note follows in post-script.**

**Soundtrack choice: PLEASE VISIT LINK IN MY PROFILE FOR A SPECIAL TREAT. DO THIS BEFORE YOU READ.**

**DISCLAIMER/LEGAL MUMBO-JUMBO: I do not own The Last of Us, it is Naughty Dog's property.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 20<strong>

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

><p><strong>-FOUR MONTHS LATER-<strong>

She walked alone, head down, in a pale gray scene. The gentle droplets of spring morning rain tapped and trickled down her head and shoulders as she went, gathering at the ends of her auburn hair. It was a route she'd taken several times, meandering on an indirect path from her house to the swap shop. Shallow pools had gathered on the fractured pavement, patches of light grey reflections of the overcast sky.

The dreary morning meant that Jackson was late to wake up. Here and there, people had risen early to work on their yards and houses, or to go for a morning walk, but the majority of the town was still asleep. It was fine by her; most of the town remained wary at her presence, and she preferred the solitude over sideways glances and hushed comments about the strange, immune green-eyed girl walking by herself.

She rounded the corner and the swap shop came into view. It had once been Jackson's general store, but had been expanded and re-purposed into a place of trade where townsfolk could barter for goods that had been gathered on supply raids. She hadn't brought anything to trade, but the note that had been slipped under her door said she didn't need to. She was simply supposed to head there first thing in the morning.

She shouldered the door open and stepped inside. She shook the water from her sodden hair, then ran her fingers through it, squeezing out moisture as she went. There were no other patrons this early in the day, and out of habit she started perusing the aisles.

She looked over to the counter and saw the familiar figure standing there. She wore her hair down, and it hung to the middle of her back, long and dark brown with hints of red that only became visible in the right light. She was rummaging through some miscellany on the shelves with her back turned to the counter. Ellie cleared her throat to announce her presence.

The woman turned back and looked at her, giving a smile that somehow gave warmth to her cold green eyes. "Good morning, Ellie!"

"Morning."

"I see you got my note."

Ellie produced it from her back pocket and unfolded it. "Yeah, assumed it was from you, though you didn't bother to sign it." She made a show of loudly tapping the blank bottom of the page before studying the note again. "You have nice handwriting."

The woman shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a natural. I'm glad you're here. I've got something for you. It's in the back, though. Wait here."

"Okay," she replied as the woman disappeared through the door frame next to the counter. Her eyes wandered over the various sundries behind the counter while she waited. "Hey, where's D?"

"Huh?" the woman called from the other side of the door frame.

"D. Where is he? He's usually tinkering around with something in here. I thought you two were supposed to be inseparable."

A brief bout of raucous laughter came from somewhere in the back. "Oh man… you're a funny girl, you know that? Nah, he's at the dam working his magic with the other engineers."

"Oh."

The sound of something being knocked over came from the back, followed by the audible tumbling of a few other items scattering across the floor. "Shit! Ohhhh, yeah, that's good for it," the woman said to herself in a condescending tone.

"Everything alright back there?" Ellie called.

"Yeah, yeah, I just happen to be a goddamn klutz from time to time. Or always. Whatever."

"I hope you didn't break whatever it is you had for me!"

"Nah, just some other… random junk. Oh yeah, speaking of D. He went out on this week's supply raid. Came back yesterday. He brought back something that he thought you might be interested in. Took quite a bit of effort to hold onto it, I might add. It was in high demand."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm. Someone even offered him their prized sidearm for it, but he declined. I think he's taken a shine to you." She peered her head around the corner and gave Ellie a crooked smirk of suppressed amusement, the kind one makes while waiting for someone to get the punchline of a good joke.

Ellie rolled her eyes as the woman's head disappeared once more. No matter how sour Ellie's mood, the woman always managed to conjure some friendly banter from her. "Oh, har har… you must be rubbing off on him."

A loud, exaggerated sigh came from the back. "If only the world could be so lucky. Ah… here we are." More sounds of commotion preceded the woman's reappearance from the back. She was cradling a large, irregularly shaped case and set it on the counter before Ellie.

"No fucking way…" Ellie marveled. "He found one?"

"Open it. See for yourself."

Ellie ran her palms over the smooth, aged leather, feeling the bumpy texture rimmed by precise stitching. She moved her hands down to the gleaming clasps and undid them one by one. She placed her fingers on the edges of the lid let out a long exhale before lifting it.

Flawless, rich lacquered wood was the first thing that met her eyes, surrounded by maroon crushed velvet. The strings were, miraculously, still in nearly perfect condition. The dark wood of the fretboard shone with a dull luster. It was, all-in-all, immaculate. Ellie could barely contain the emotions within her as she studied it.

A pair of fingers appeared before her eyes, snapping in her face to break her trance. "Did you hear me?" the woman asked as Ellie looked up.

"No, what?"

"You've been doing that a lot lately, you know that? Drifting off here and there? It's like one moment you're here and the next you're somewhere else… somewhere far away. Anyway, I said the case is what kept the guitar in such perfect condition," she repeated, running her hands along the edge of the open lid in admiring fashion. "It was expensive in its time. Nearly air-tight seal with a dehumidifier built in. Fine brand of guitar, too, I might add…"

"Oh?" Ellie looked up, intrigued. "Do you play?"

"Did. But… it's been longer than I can remember since I've even seen one of these, so I'm not sure I could remember how. My daddy taught me when I was a little girl, probably not much younger than yourself, come to think of it. What are you… fifteen?"

Ellie looked back at the guitar. "I think I'm supposed to turn sixteen one of these days. Or weeks. Or maybe I already did. Who knows anymore?"

"I hear that."

"What do you want for it?" Ellie asked as she ran her fingers over the length of the strings, rewarding her ears with a faint ringing as she pulled her hand away.

"She's yours."

Ellie's eyes glazed over as she admired the instrument. "Seriously? Just like that? Are you sure there's nothing I can give you in return?"

The woman shook her head. "D insisted. If he found out I made you pay for it, he'd break me in half."

Ellie snickered at that. "Psh, yeah right. He'd never hurt a hair on your head. I've seen the way he looks at you…"

The woman's expression went gravely serious as she hunched down and looked intently into Ellie's eyes, searching them fastidiously. It was so direct that Ellie found herself getting uncomfortable and leaned back instinctively. The tension eased when the woman burst out in laughter again, causing Ellie to jump. "Ah, shit, kid. You should do stand-up or something."

"What the hell does that mean, 'stand-up'?"

"Oh, right… sometimes I forget with you post-Outbreakers. It's just another way of saying you're hilarious."

"Ah," she replied, feigning that she understood.

"People who were funny - or, at least, had the impression that they were funny - would go stand up before an audience and just tell jokes."

Ellie chortled. "What? No way! I'd totally fucking rule at that."

"You won't hear a lick of denial from me," the woman responded warmly.

Ellie closed the guitar case and re-clasped it, then propped her elbows on the case and her head on her hands. "Hey, did… did you ever have kids?"

"Me? No. No, I was only… gosh… well, probably around your age when the cordyceps hit. Maybe a year or two older, I forget. Too young to have kids, anyhow. Always wanted them, though." Ellie gave her a sly look, and the woman knew immediately what she was implying. "Oh, yeah right," she guffawed, "I'm sure that's the _first_ thing on his mind. You do remember the part where we're not even certain that he is, indeed, human?"

"So you don't deny that you've thought about it-"

"Now, wait a hot minute!"

Ellie laughed wholeheartedly, the kind that originates in the pit of the stomach. It felt good to do so. There wasn't much in the world worth laughing about anymore. "I'm just fucking with you!"

The woman joined Ellie in her laughter, and the two shared the moment until it died down into silence once again. Ellie's eyes fell and studied her hands, and the woman took to tracing the wood grain of the counter with her fingertip. She perked up after a moment.

"Oh! One more thing... almost forgot!" She walked out from behind the counter and turned down one of the aisles. "The raiding party brought back a load of canned goods, too. I set a couple aside I thought you might like."

She reached behind some items on the shelf to where she had tucked a few cans, pulled them down and set them on the guitar case. One in particular stood out among the rest. The label read 'Smith's Cherry Pie Filling.' Against her efforts, the smile slowly faded.

The woman took notice. "Everything alright?"

Ellie stared at the can for a moment before responding. "Yeah... yeah everything's fine."

She wasn't convinced, but the woman decided it was probably imprudent to pry any further. "Okay."

"Y'know, I should probably get back. Thank you for these," she said as she put the cans in her backpack. "And for the guitar. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Don't mention it… and D's the one you should be thanking, so next time you see him-"

"I will."

Ellie threw her backpack on, grabbed the handle of the guitar case and slid it off the counter, and made for the door. Upon reaching it, she hesitated and turned back. It took a moment for the words to properly arrange themselves before she spoke.

"Listen. About D. None of us really know how much time we have... until, you know, we're... until we're dead. The way the world is… a-and the way people are... I dunno, I guess I'm trying to say that... it's important to let the people you care about, or... love, or whatever... know... while you still have the chance." Suddenly, Ellie's attention was miles away, focused on the unseen.

The woman gave her a pensive look. "You should have just told him."

Ellie blinked as she snapped back to reality. "What?"

"I said you're right, and to tell Joel hello for me."

Ellie's brow furrowed, trying to determine whether her ears had just played a trick on her. She had drifted for a moment, after all.

"I will," she replied through a weak smile as she pushed open the door.

She stood on the porch of the swap shop, watching the rain cascade off of the awning for a moment. The weather was doing nothing to help her mood, but she didn't really care. She adjusted her grip on the guitar case before turning to head toward the graveyard.

* * *

><p>She turned the handle and the door swung open. The house was quiet. The rain had finally tapered off, but outside it was still gloomy and gray. The living room seemed drained of any color in the drab light.<p>

She shut the door behind her and laid the guitar case gently on the easy chair. She dropped her backpack next to it and threw her coat on the hook before taking a seat on the couch. She sat there, lost in her thoughts, staring at the guitar case for several minutes. Finally, she stood up and walked over to it.

She laid it on its side, undid the clasps, and lifted the lid. The guitar sat there, waiting, but she just stared at it in silent reverence. She reached out a hand and ran it over the smooth lacquer, over the strings, and over the crushed velvet padding. She crooked her fingers around the neck and lifted it from its case.

It wasn't a small instrument, and it felt humongous in her arms. She walked it over to the couch and sat down, laying it across her knee in a way that felt the most natural. She brought her right hand to the strings, placing them over the hole in the flawless wooden face. With her fingertips, she plucked at a string. The note rang out, filling the lifeless room with a vibrant, warm resonance. She couldn't help but smile.

She hit another string. It, too, rang out true, sustaining the note for several seconds before fading away. She hit two strings, but the notes clashed, each one trying to out-muscle the other. She grimaced briefly, then brought her left hand to the neck of the guitar. She studied the fretboard as she dragged her fingertips up and down its length, feeling the bump of each fret.

She hadn't the slightest inkling how to finger a proper chord, so she positioned them aimlessly. Eventually deciding on a position, she pressed the strings to the fretboard with her fingertips and strummed all six strings with her left hand. It wasn't a chord, and the sound was rather sour.

"Fuck," she muttered.

She readjusted her left hand and tried again, but the result was no better. She wrinkled her nose and tried again, going back to fingering and picking just two strings. A system of trial and error finally gave her two notes that seemed to work with each other, and she smiled. But adding a third string into the mix fouled everything up again. She exhaled in frustration.

"That's awful."

She kept her eyes focused on the fretboard. "You're awful." She heard him approach and tried to keep her gaze on the neck of the guitar, but against her best efforts it lifted to meet his. A slow smile spread across her face as he reached up to push the rebellious lock of hair behind her ear with his good hand.

"I ain't kiddin'. All that racket you were makin' woke me up from my peaceful and quiet sleep."

"Pshhh. It wouldn't be racket if you'd take the time to teach me," she said in feigned protest.

He looked down at the guitar, eyes sparkling for a moment as he took it in. He reached out his right hand. "Give it here, let me have a closer look."

Ellie extended the guitar to him and he took it. He whistled as he admired the craftsmanship. "She's a beaut. Where'd you find something in this kind of condition?"

She shrugged. "Rebecca, down at the swap shop, just… gave it to me. She said Declan found it on a supply raid this week, and that he insisted it be given to me. Free of charge."

He lifted his eyebrows at that. "Ain't that something."

She nodded, then watched as he looked the guitar over. "Oh, and she says 'hi.'"

He set it across his lap and gave the strings an open strum. "Well… here's your first problem. She's out of tune something fierce. Now, I'm gonna need your help fixin' that, okay?" he said, gesturing to his left arm.

Ellie still wasn't fully accustomed to seeing his arm end in an abrupt stump a few inches below his elbow. The strangeness of it would undoubtedly pass with time, but she kept expecting that the next time she saw him the hand would miraculously return. It never did.

"Okay. What do I do?"

"Here… sit down," he took a seat on the couch and directed her to sit to his right. She plopped down next to him and he slid the body of the guitar into her lap, leaving the headstock in front of him. "Okay. Now, hit the string closest to your face."

"Like this?" she plucked at the thickest string.

"That's right," he replied, reaching up with his hand to adjust the tuning knob. "Go on, do it again." She did, and he adjusted the knob once more. "Alright. That there's your low 'E' string. Now, I know most of this note stuff won't make too much sense right off the bat, but I promise, in time it will."

"Okay. So what's this one?" she asked as she hit the next string.

"That's supposed to be your 'A' string, but…" he reached up and pressed down the lowest string on the fifth fret. "Okay, see what I'm doin' here?" She nodded. "Go on, try it yourself, then hit the two low strings together."

The notes that sounded rang out in unpleasant dissonance, and Ellie turned to give Joel a look of mock disgust. "That sounds like shit. What kind of chord is that?"

Joel shook his head. "It ain't a chord, it's how you tune the rest of your strings to the first one. You see this second knob here?" She nodded. "What you want to do is turn this until the two notes sound the same. Go ahead, hit them again." She did, and this time Joel turned the second knob until the notes were nearly indistinguishable from each other. "There we go!"

"Awesome!" she said, scooting up on the couch a little bit as her excitement gathered.

"Okay, now keep doing that with each string until they're all in tune. There's one curve ball in there, but I'll point it out when you get to it."

He looked on fondly as she proceeded to tune up the guitar. He guided her around tuning the 'B' string, but at last the guitar was in tune. Ellie held the guitar in her lap, buoyed by a sense of accomplishment.

She bounced up and down briefly. "Okay, okay! Teach me something!"

"Alright, kiddo. But it's been a long time, so… this ain't gonna be easy."

* * *

><p>"Dammit," he muttered, getting up from the couch. He walked over to stare out the window, instinctively going to put his hands on his hips. It resulted in an awkward motion when he remembered he didn't have a left hand anymore. It only seemed to add to his frustration.<p>

"Joel, don't worry about it, it's okay," Ellie said, hoping to reassure him.

He held his left arm out and looked at it from beneath a furrowed brow. "It's just… damn frustratin', is all. It's like… I can still feel the fingers but there ain't nothin' there. Rememberin' chords through muscle memory ain't easy when the muscles just ain't there no more."

Ellie set the guitar back in its case, handling it as gingerly as possible, then strode up next to him. She took hold of his shoulders, fighting to meet his gaze, which seemed adamant to avoid hers. "Look, it's fine. We've got nothing but time. I'm sure it'll come back to you." She offered him a smile. "Besides, we made good progress for the first lesson."

He let a long exhale escape through his nose. "Yeah. I suppose you're right." He sauntered back to the couch and took a seat.

Ellie followed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat next to him. She rested her head on her knees and fiddled with her sneakers for awhile. Outside, the relentless overcast sky was being dispersed by the midday sun.

After several minutes passed, Joel rose and went to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a couple glasses of bourbon. He extended one to Ellie and she stared at it before taking it. "This early?"

"Oh, c'mon, it's after noon. Besides, it's five o' clock somewhere," he replied, returning to his seat.

She chuckled. "I guess." The bourbon brought with it a taste of warm familiarity, and Ellie hearkened back to that first sip, so long ago, in the house in Laramie. She smiled at the remembrance of her initial reaction, especially in contrast to her developed fondness of it now.

"So," Joel started after taking a draw from his glass, "where'd you run off to this morning?"

She looked over at him briefly before returning her gaze to her sneakers. "I told you. The swap shop. Got the guitar, remember?"

He let out a small laugh that didn't convey amusement. "I felt you get up at the crack of dawn and head out. You didn't come back here til late mornin'. Now, I know Jackson's big and all, but it don't take that long to go to the swap shop and back."

Her cheeks flushed and she kept her eyes on her shoes. She was silent for a long time. "I… I went and saw her again today."

A bit of frustration seeped back into Joel's demeanor. "Ellie-"

"I figure _one_ of us should." She shrugged.

He let out a long, labored sigh. "I wish you'd stop doin' that."

"But-"

"Ellie, the whole reason I came back here with you was to focus on the future, not to dwell on the past."

She wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged them close. "I get that, Joel, but you can't just act like she's not fucking there. Believe it or not, there _is_ some middle ground between dwelling on the past and acting like it never happened. The least you could do is visit her grave once in a while."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he said tentatively.

She gave an aggravated groan. "Joel, you've spent your whole life running from the past, even though you, yourself, have admitted that you can't escape it. Why are you still trying? Why don't you just… fucking face it for once?"

He gave her a long, studying look before taking another sip from the glass. He sighed in surrender. "Maybe you're right…I'll… next time you're gonna give her a visit, I'll join you. Okay?"

She looked at him blankly, but then smiled after a moment. "Deal."

Joel nodded and rose to his feet. He headed over to the open guitar case and gently closed the lid, clasping it shut. "We'll pick this up again tomorrow. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm gettin' hungry. What say I rustle up some lunch for us?"

The mere thought of food made her stomach grumble right on cue, provoking a laugh from each of them. "Oh man…" Ellie said through the tail end of laughter. "Did we ever find a muzzle for that thing?"

"Hmph. I reckon one don't exist."

"Alright, I'll get out of your way. I think I'm gonna go sit in the backyard for awhile," she said, turning to head out the back door. "Oh, hey, Bec also gave me a few cans of food. They're in my backpack."

"Okay."

He listened as she walked out onto the porch and stepped down onto the lawn. Her backpack was in the next room, and he turned to fetch it. He brought it to the kitchen, unzipped it and started pulling cans from inside. He distributed them with their respective food groups in the pantry, taking a moment to gaze at the label of the cherry pie filling.

A tug of sadness pulled on him, and by reflex he started to block the emotions out. _Things happen, and we move on._ His old mantra was the first thing to spring into his mind, but Ellie's words wore away at it. Perhaps he should just buck up and face it.

Something in Ellie's backpack caught his eye. It had been hidden underneath the can of cherry pie filling, and he reached down and picked it up. It was a voice recorder, like one of the many he'd come across in their cross-country journey. Bloody fingerprints covered its face.

He looked out of the kitchen window into the backyard. Ellie was facing away from him, sitting on the tabletop of the picnic table, staring at the mountains and ridges that surrounded Jackson. He looked down at the recorder again and pressed play.

* * *

><p>Golden beams of sunlight began piercing the blanket of clouds, casting splotches of light onto the lawn. She watched them shift and undulate, gliding across the grass as the wind rearranged the clouds overhead. The warm spring breeze laced through the strands of her hair, licking at the back of her neck as a sunbeam washed over her.<p>

She shivered, in spite of the warmth, which made her think of Titus. She had pushed the emotions that stemmed from his desertion out of her mind ever since he'd disappeared without warning or explanation. The vacant, empty sorrow that had been suppressed rose to the surface. If only he had stayed.

Her eyes drifted to the small grave at the back of their property, marked by the little wooden cross adorned with the name Cosmo. She hoped that, wherever he was, Titus was alive and well. It was a listless hope.

The small grave, in turn, made her think of the larger one she had visited that morning. The death that had led to the events of the subsiding winter. Going after Joel had brought her to death's door more than once, but somehow, someway, she had found him. She had saved him. She had brought him back.

Being back in Jackson almost felt stranger than the first time they'd arrived. There were no skeletons in the closet between her and Joel this time, which should have put her more at ease, but something about it still felt foreign. She knew it would take a long time to once again grow comfortable with the idea of safety. Beyond that, she carried the additional weight of the things she'd done and the lives she'd taken in her relentless quest to find him.

Now, as when she first arrived, she felt an inexplicable temptation to run off into the woods, to grab Joel and hit the road with him once again. But she knew better than that. When the world hands you a gift, you don't squander it. When you get a second chance, you take hold of it. You don't let go.

* * *

><p>"Uh… so… ummm. Fuck-" the recorder crackled as if the recording had stopped and then started again. The voice was Ellie's. "Okay. Let's try this again. I feel like a fucking idiot for talking to a stupid voice recorder, so… I'm just gonna pretend like I'm talking to you, Joel."<p>

There was a long pause in the recording before it picked up again. "I found this recorder thing today when I was looking for supplies. I figured, you know… it'll help me stay awake in the long hours of the night. Like right now. I can't see a thing, and it's fucking freezing in here. You're the only thing keeping me warm."

Again, a long pause stretched on, interrupted only by the sound of her breathing. "I've been awake for three straight days, so… everything's kind of… I dunno, loopy right now. Probably explains why I'm even recording this at all, but fuck it. I'm too afraid to sleep. I'm too afraid that I'll wake up… and... you'll be gone."

A loud sniffle broke up the next pause, followed by a shaky exhale. "You died, you know. That first morning after I cut-" Her words stopped short. She let out a sigh and then cleared her throat. "But I brought you back. I'm not sure how. Maybe it was… fuck, I dunno what it was. Sheer force of will? Whatever. All I know is you died, and I brought you back.

"If you were still infected, you would have turned by now, so… I guess it worked. Fucking good thing it did, because I don't know if I could ever bring myself to shoot you in the head. God…" Another sniffle broke the silence. "I know… I know from experience that… dying is easier than watching someone die. I refuse to believe that that's what's happening here." She let out a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "My ear is pressed to your ribs right now, and listening to your heartbeat… gives me hope. I think it's getting stronger. It might just be this whole… lack of sleep making me imagine things, but whatever. It's getting stronger. It has to be. It is."

Joel watched Ellie sitting on the picnic table as her words poured out of the recorder. She was sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees and her head resting on one hand, fidgeting with something unseen with the other.

"There's some things that we hold onto," her voice continued. "I don't mean, like… physical things, necessarily. Just… I don't know. Words. Feelings. Things we want to say but never build up the courage to actually say them. Especially to someone's face. We… we hold them inside…. we hold them in our heads and take them out from time to time, turning them over until they're worn and familiar, like the backs of our hands. But we always keep them there, in our heads. We just keep them to ourselves.

"I never knew my real dad. Fuck, for that matter I didn't actually know my mom either, beyond what she wrote in her note and what Marlene has told me. I… I never had parents, really. Until you. Marlene doesn't count. She'd just check in on me from time to time, and keep track of me. She wasn't involved. She was just fulfilling her duty to my mom. I barely considered her a friend.

"But you…" There was a pause of such length that Joel thought the recording might have ended. Her voice, having gone shaky, broke the silence at last. "In a world like this… and.. in a life like this… when you find someone and care for them and… draw strength from them… you find yourself tethered to them. You grab hold of them and refuse to let go. You hold onto them as if life depends on it... because it does.

"And it's always those people we keep things from. Things that we want to say, that we _should _say. Life's too fucking short for those things to be left unsaid." She scoffed before continuing. "Look at me, I can't even take my own fucking words seriously. I can't even say this all to your face… I have to resort to talking to a recorder while you're... lying next to me unconscious.

"Well… if you ever happen across this thing someday and decide to listen to it, I hope you understand what I've been trying to say. It's something I shouldn't be afraid to tell you in person, but... I… I guess I am. I-"

Joel waited in anticipation for the recording to continue, but again, the pause was dilated. Ellie's uneven breaths filled the kitchen, followed by a few sniffles as she audibly fought off tears. The next three words were barely decipherable.

"I love you."

The recorder clicked off, marking the end of the message. Joel looked at her out the window again. He couldn't fathom the weight of what that little girl had gone through to get back here with him. He looked down at his left arm, trying to imagine what it must have been like for her to remove it, cold and scared and alone. The world had thrown so much hell at her, but still she persevered. He wiped a tear from his eyes.

* * *

><p>She tugged at the lace of her sneaker. The things were falling apart, and her feet were starting to strain against the stitching. She'd had them for a couple years, and had apparently grown quite a bit in that stretch. They'd crossed the country with her, trudging through snow and mud, getting soaked in rivers and flooded fields, and protecting her feet as she fled Infected or hunters.<p>

But that was in the past. There would be no more running. She looked up at the tops of the mountains. She was home. She could have a normal life, or as normal as you could have anymore. She could put her switchblade back on the windowsill upstairs. She could live. She could build a life with Joel. There was even a chance that she could be happy.

Somewhere behind her, from the back porch of their home, a distant voice was calling her name. She heard it, and turned to face him, smiling. She met his eyes and dove into them, and within them she found what she had spent her life searching for. Within them, she found love.

She saw the old voice recorder in his hand, and then understood the tears that had streaked down his face. He opened his arms, and she ran into them. He wrapped her in an embrace, and whispered into her ear.

She was never alone.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>THIS CONCLUDES AFTERMATH: PART III<br>****AND THE AFTERMATH SERIES**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I can't believe it's finished. Seriously, I can't believe it. It's been a journey spanning SEVEN months of writing and editing and rewriting and reading reviews which led to laughing and blushing and critical thought. I don't know how I'm going to write the summation of my thoughts and feelings appropriately, but I'm going to try.  
><strong>

**First things first, if you've been following this series since the beginning or just came across it today, thank you for taking time out of your life to read it. It kinda tickles me to see people enjoying something I've written. As I said, going into this I hadn't done any creative writing since high school, which was 8 years ago. But now, because of the enjoyment I've gleaned from writing this series, I'm writing my first novel. It's just unbelievable how much can change in the span of seven months.**

**So here's what I need you to do: if you've been lurking in the shadows, come out of hiding and say hello. If you've been reviewing every chapter, please give your final thoughts. I'd like to hear from anyone and everyone who has read this. No, this isn't some cheap attempt at getting the most reviews on FanFiction dot net, but that would be a nice side effect. I sincerely do want to hear from everyone and if you have an account here that's even better because then I can reply to you personally. You guys are great!**

**And to those of you who have been reviewing every chapter, and I mean _every_ chapter (you know who you are) just know that I always look out for your reviews and am anxious to read them. Thanks for showing such a commitment to the series and giving me so much encouragement. You have changed the course of my history.**

**So here we are, at the end of Part III. At the end of The Last of Us, one of the themes that came out was "How far would you go to save the one you love? Would you kill? Would you do worse?" We got to see. We got to experience firsthand and have agency to how far Joel would go to save Ellie.**

**In chapter 19 of Part III, we got to see just how far Ellie would go to save Joel, and how she had been given a second chance. It was a very intentional choice to have Joel's bite be identical to Riley's, and the symbolism there was important. Ellie refuses to let history repeat itself, and so she changes it. It's by no means easy on her, and she'll likely have nightmares about that moment for the rest of her life, but to go to those great lengths shows just how much she loves Joel.**

**The way the epilogue starts is actually written as a strong nod to the start of Winter in the game. You're left not knowing whether Joel has survived, and instead have to follow Ellie on some apparent side-quest, kept in suspension as you wait for the words "Medicine!" or "That's awful." It was such a master stroke on the part of Naughty Dog that I stuck with the winning strategy for it.**

**As you can probably gather from the chapter, Ellie's mental state isn't in the best condition. She's constantly losing focus and is burdened by the things she's done. It's interesting that she tells Joel to stop running from his past and to face his issues when in some ways she's refusing to face her own. I'd like to think that she'll find happiness eventually. All wounds heal in time, as the old saying goes.**

**The idea to have Joel get bit and Ellie amputate his arm actually came very soon on the heels of Left Behind. The story of the helicopter crew provided the perfect background, and the perfect metaphorical mirror, to give this story its weight. Sure, the love between Joel and Ellie and between Regan and Ellis is of a different sort, but it's love nonetheless. Whereas Regan and Ellis's story have a tragic ending, Joel and Ellie's doesn't. Oh, and did anyone catch the "Regan and Ellis" = "Riley and Ellie" parallel? Clever clever, Naughty Dog.**

**So as I look back on the arc of the entire series, I feel overall pretty happy with it. Looking back now, I don't think I'd go back and touch Part I at all. I think that's probably the strongest of the three parts, but it also had the advantage of having a predefined beginning and end, story-wise and character development wise. I was constrained, and that probably helped more than I readily admit. Part III, I'm also very happy with. I think I told the story that I wanted to tell and, given the experience gained from all of this writing, the best written of the three.**

**Which brings me to Part II. I, myself, am sort of torn with the second half of Part II. I think, looking back, I might have handled the conclusion differently, possible eschewing the character of Lakyn completely. I'm not going to rewrite it after it's been published because I don't believe in that, but if I could go back I might try to find some other tragic event that could make Joel leave. Perhaps, through his actions, he nearly gets Ellie killed. Maybe he's on patrol with Maria and she gets killed "on his watch," and he comes to the same conclusion he did with Lakyn: that he's some sort of black widower, somehow causing the deaths of all the women in his life. Looking back on it now, I just don't think there's any believable scenarios where Joel finds romance. Sadly, I think that ship has left the harbor. If you disagree, even to the point that you think the Lakyn thing worked, well then I'm flattered. Anyway, I wrote a long blog post about this sort of justifying my position on it, but I still think I could have done a better job with the execution of it. But, live and learn.**

****What happened to Titus? Here's the big shocker: I don't know. He ran off. It's a mystery. Is he alive? I don't know. Sometimes people or animals leave with no explanation. Life has a way of being unremarkable, and unfulfilling, like that.****

**And just who were those two strangers, you ask? The ones Joel and Ellie run across in the woods whose names aren't revealed until this chapter? Well, I mentioned, again, in another blog post that I was throwing around the idea of having an AU version of my two main characters from my novel make an appearance in the Aftermath series. I can finally confirm that that is indeed who these two are. Declan and Rebecca are the lead characters in the novel, and their physical descriptions are pulled almost word for word from it (except for the clothing as the novel takes place in warmer climates.) Rebecca _nearly_ tells Joel her name when she first meets him, but he cuts her off at 'R-' and Declan is affectionately referred to as 'D' to keep his name a secret until this chapter. In the novel, when Rebecca meets Declan, he introduces himself as "Dec" and actually never tells her his full name. She, in kind, initially introduces herself as "Bec" just so she can say "hey, look at us! Bec and Dec, right?" That's where the "Bec" nickname comes from. So yeah, sorry there's no HUGE TWIST OMG as to who these two are. Just a writer having fun at his own inside joke. I thought bringing them back in the final chapter would give them some greater purpose here.**

**I'd love to be able to tell you what the name of the novel is, but I don't have a name yet. As followers of the blog know, I'm writing my novel while two friends of mine are also writing novels in the same universe, and we plan to have this all be part of a larger series, but we don't have a name for the series, either. Which is frustrating because I can't give you a name to look out for. The best I can do is ask you to bookmark or follow my Wordpress blog (just click on my name on here, it'll take you to my profile where the link to the blog is posted.) If you follow that, I'll be posting updates about the novel and eventually that series will get its own website because I think we're planning on doing some viral promo stuff for it to build some interest. If you've enjoyed my writing and want to see more, that's the best way to do it.**

**If you read the soundtrack choice, you'll see I directed you to a link in my profile for Aftermath (Main Theme). I composed and recorded this in my bedroom as just a fun little project to tie off the series. I'm not a sound engineer, so I'm sure it's got plenty of EQ and other issues, and I know the actual playing isn't perfect, but eh. It was just a rough track for fun. I wanted to tie together variations on the themes "All Gone," "The Last of Us," and "The Path" in a way that I thought fit the feel of the series. I hope it's at least passable.**

**In addition, I remember mentioning I was going to be working on a project to give you a new way to experience the Aftermath series, but unfortunately I think that project has fizzled out. My original plan was to partner with a talented artist I found on Reddit who excels at the kind of artwork you see in TLoU's concept art gallery. I spoke with the artist about bringing several of the scenes from the Aftermath series to life, but after a few short interactions with him, I never heard from him again. So that's too bad, because I was really looking forward to it! Oh well...**

**Well, I feel like this author's note is nearly as long as the chapter (actually, that's an exaggeration... the chapter was frickin' loooooong.) So I should probably wrap things up. I might be writing a blog post in a few days summing up more of my thoughts after having some time to decompress. Again, thank you thank you thank you to anyone who has ever read this series and posted their thoughts on it. Please say hi in the reviews and let me know what you think of the conclusion to the series.**

**And I reiterate: yes, this is the end. The definitive end. I know what you're thinking: "How can this be the definitive end?" Because I said so. There will be no Aftermath: Part IV. Of that, I am certain. It's time to focus on my book.**

**Thank you all and God bless you for making it this far.**


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